Unconscious Motivation
by areyoukiddingmedude
Summary: Harley's in college when her dad gets remarried to a gorgeous redhead. Will she be able to fight temptation as the attraction between them grows? (Spoiler alert: NOPE.) Stepmom AU. Slow burn Red Diamond (Harley/Ivy).
1. Chapter 1

"Harley, you're the best! Thank you so much!" said the only other server on duty, grabbing his baseball cap from below the counter.

"Are you kidding me, Bud? It's not every day your wife gives birth! Well – actually, for you, it kinda is. What is this, number five?" Harley said with a grin.

"Six, actually," Bud said proudly.

"Get outa here already! And when you come back, we need to talk about finding you and Louise some outside interests, a hobby or something, or you're going to end up with six more."

Bud flushed a little at that and ruffled Harley's hair affectionately. "I owe ya one, kid." And he dashed out to find a cab.

Harley smiled after him for a second, then took a deep breath and got to work. Luckily, the lunchtime rush was slowing down, otherwise there's no way she'd be able to cover the whole restaurant solo.

 _Okay, Harley, time to get into Beast Mode_ , she thought, silently psyching herself up.

She refilled the water at tables 3 and 12, grabbed an appetizer for 6 and entrees for 7 from the kitchen in one trip, exchanged silly faces with a cute little boy at table 4, and took orders from 2 and 10. Then she blew some blonde tendrils out of her face and grabbed a menu for the woman who'd just sat down at table 5.

Harley checked her phone – 1:45. That meant less than 3 hours left on her shift, and she should be able to make it to her dad's house in plenty of time for supper.

 _Dad's house_. That still sounded weird, even though the divorce was final over a year ago. It was hard not to say "Momanddad's house" like it was all one word. But Mom had stayed down in Florida, and Dad had just moved back to New York alone.

Well, not alone exactly. With his new wife. Whom Harley had never met, knew nothing about, didn't know she even _existed_ until her dad had called her last week out of the blue:

"Hey, Pumpkin!"

"Hey, Pop. What's up? I have practice in a few."

"My little girl, always so busy." Harley rolled her eyes. She was a sophomore in college – nobody's little girl. But her dad only called her pet names when he'd messed up or when he wanted something.

"What'd you do this time, Pop?"

"What? Nothing! Well, something. But nothing bad."

"Seriously, I have to get going . . ."

"Okay, I'll make this quick. I have two great pieces of news. One, I'm moving back to New York!" her dad said excitedly.

"Back to Canarsie? Why?" said Harley, unable to keep her tone neutral.

Her dad chuckled. "No, sweetie – I'm moving to Ithaca! I'll be right near you!"

"What?"

If he noticed that her response was all shock and no happiness, he ignored it. "Yeah, I bought a house just outside the city. And I'll be moving into it next weekend . . . with my new wife!"

Harley was silent.

"That's surprise number 2," her dad said. Then, after a pause, "Harley? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," she said quietly.

They made plans for her to come over for dinner the following Sunday, once her dad – and The New Wife – had moved in to the new house.

Harley had ended the call and immediately burst into tears.

She shook her head on her way to table 5, remembering the whole conversation and idly wondering why she'd cried. It wasn't like she thought her parents had the love of a lifetime, or that she was super upset about the divorce. But she pushed those thoughts away for further analysis at a later time, flipping through her pad of paper to find an empty spot for the next person's order.

"Hi there, welcome to Caprese, my name's Hhh–"

Her own name stuck in her throat as she looked up from the pad she was flipping through and locked eyes with the most gorgeous person she had ever seen.

The woman was, quite literally, breathtaking. She wore a green dress with a halter top that hugged her curves perfectly, her long red hair cascading over her tan shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled with amusement and she arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow questioningly.

Her voice was sultry, with just a hint of a Southern accent. "Hhh, did you say? Mm. That's a nice name. Succinct and to the point."

Harley could tell that she was being teased. And god, she liked it.

She overcame her initial . . . whatever the hell that was, grinned and said, "It's a family name. I'm actually Hhh the Third."

The woman threw her head back and laughed. It seemed to take her by surprise, because she quickly put a hand over her mouth and got control of herself once more.

"Oh! Your menu," said Harley, just as the woman said "Ah, a menu." She reached for it as Harley was already setting it down in front of her, and she ended up gently grabbing Harley's wrist instead.

She pulled back instantly, and there was a moment of awkwardness between them. Harley saw the other woman swallow hard before resuming her placid expression. The accidental contact had sent a jolt running right from Harley's wrist to the pit of her stomach, and she realized how desperately she wanted those cool fingers to linger on her skin, to trail lightly up her arm, to graze over the sensitive skin at the inside of her elbow –

"Sorry!" Harley said quickly, coming to her senses. "I'm, um, do you want some water? I'll get you some water." And she hurried off to grab a pitcher.

 _Jesus, Harley, get it together!_ she told herself as she got the pitcher and took a minute to steady herself. She had no idea why this woman was affecting her so strongly – Harley wasn't even into girls, but for some reason she was about two seconds away from crawling into this woman's lap and ravaging her and – what? That didn't even make any sense!

"Sorry about that," Harley said as she returned and filled the woman's glass.

"You keep apologizing, but I don't know why," the woman said in that low voice that sent shivers down Harley's spine. _Let's keep it that way_ , Harley thought.

"So, do you know what you want? Um, to order?" Harley said. _Smooth._

The woman smiled. She folded her hands delicately, rested her chin on them, and looked Harley right in the eye. "What do you think I should get?"

 _Me on a platter_ , thought Harley. _No, bad Harley! Bad!_ "Um, well, the caprese salad is pretty good – we use local heirloom tomatoes and we make our own mozzarella."

"That sounds perfect," the woman said, handing Harley her menu.

"I should have known you'd be a salad girl," Harley said, regaining a little of her cheekiness.

The older woman arched an eyebrow again. "Oh, I'm much more than a salad girl," she said in that husky voice of hers, like a mint julep that somehow learned to talk. "I just have it on good authority that I should order this."

Harley maybe squeaked something in reply, she wasn't sure, and luckily she was so busy that she really couldn't linger anyway.

When she brought the salad out, Harley hovered while the woman took her first bite. She let out a tiny moan (at least, Harley was pretty sure that was the woman and not her), and a little drop of olive oil hovered on her upper lip. Harley watched, mesmerized, as the woman's tongue flicked out to capture it. Heat rushed to Harley's cheeks, and she faked a coughing fit to cover her (super weird!) reaction.

The woman looked at her calmly – was that a knowing smirk? Then she said, "This is good," in a voice that was a little lower than usual.

Harley swallowed hard. "Um, yeah, we named the restaurant after it, so yeah. I'm glad you like it."

The woman just looked at Harley, her expression unreadable. "Water," Harley squeaked, and went off to refill some glasses around the restaurant.

And yeah, so maybe she wrote her phone number on the woman's check, but that was so normal! Right?

But as Harley was in the back, getting up the nerve to actually say something to her, the woman must have left. She paid in cash and left a very generous tip.

And she took the piece of paper with Harley's number on it.

Later, after her shift and a short drive, Harley pulled up outside a white two-story house with a green Prius and a beat-up pickup truck in the driveway. She pulled out her phone and checked the address one last time. Yep, this was the place.

She lightly hopped off her motorcycle – her baby, her one indulgence – and parked it on the driveway. Then she took off her helmet and shook out a blonde mess, which she tried to tame with her fingers, wanting to make a good first impression on her dad's new wife. She put the helmet on the back of her bike.

Then she took a deep breath, walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell.

Her dad flung the door open almost instantly – he must have been waiting for her, which made Harley feel good despite her complicated relationship with her dad.

"Pumpkin!" he yelled, pulling her inside and into a huge hug. The hug also felt good – he smelled like her childhood, of York peppermint patties and his weird pine-scented aftershave, and he had that combination of dark hair and sparkling blue eyes that had women falling for him everywhere he went. (Harley got her blue eyes and outgoing personality from her dad. From her mom, she got her blonde hair and a single-minded determination _not_ to end up like her mother, blending in to the wallpaper, always second to her man.)

"Hey, Pop," she mumbled, her mouth muffled against his shoulder.

"It's so good to see you," her dad said. Then he yelled, "Sweetie! Harley's here! Come meet her!"

Harley knew she was in trouble the second she heard that sultry voice say just one word: "Coming!" _No,_ she thought. _It can't be_ . . .

And then there she was, and her dad let go of Harley to proudly wrap an arm around those gorgeous shoulders, that green halter dress, and Harley saw her own shock mirrored in bright green eyes as her dad said, "Harley, I'd like you to meet my wife, Pamela. Pam, this is my daughter Harley."


	2. Chapter 2

Pamela recovered first (if she even felt anything to recover from – maybe Harley had been imagining their connection at the restaurant earlier). She flashed a quick smile and said, "Harley, it's a pleasure to meet you. Rick has told me so many lovely things about you."

"Has he now?" Harley said. It came out sounding ruder than she'd intended.

Her dad was oblivious to the sudden tension. "Of course, Pumpkin!" he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "I'm always bragging about you." Harley shook him off a little – why was everyone ruffling her hair today? It made her feel six years old. It didn't seem to offend him, but she saw Pamela take notice.

Harley didn't know what to say, or do, where to put her hands, whether to take off her shoes. She wished there was a book she could read called _What to Do When Your Dad's New Wife Is Hot._ Maybe she could write it one day. Yeah, in all of her spare time between classes and work and practice . . .

"Harley?" her dad was saying. They were still standing in the foyer, his arm casually around Pamela's shoulders, while Harley stood there like some kind of moron. _Shit._

"Sorry, Pop, I kinda zoned out there," she mumbled. "Busy day at work."

Her dad laughed and pulled her in, putting his other arm around Harley's shoulders. "My two favorite girls!" he said.

The gesture brought her face-to-face with Pamela. Well, face-to-chest, which was like a thousand times worse. Harley looked down at her feet so she wouldn't have to meet the other woman's eyes.

"Should we go sit down in the kitchen?" Pamela said. Her voice sounded a little strained, and Harley wondered again if this was awkward for her too. _Probably not_ , she thought. _That little encounter in the restaurant probably meant nothing to her. But then . . . why didn't she say anything to my dad about it?_

"Great idea!" said her dad. He took Pamela's hand, and Harley trailed after them down the hall to the kitchen.

"Nice kitchen," said Harley sincerely when they got there. There were still boxes stacked in the corner, but it was clean, and bright, and there were lush plants overflowing the windowsill, covering every available surface.

"That's all Pam's doing," her father said proudly, going in for a kiss. Harley thought Pam seemed a little shy as she turned the kiss into a peck – she probably felt weird making out in front of her husband's daughter.

"Yeah, I figured that, Pop," Harley said, finally able to smile for the first time since Awkward Encounter of the Year began. Her dad couldn't grow a plant, or clean a kitchen, if his life depended on it.

Her dad thumped her lightly on the forehead, and she wrinkled her nose at him. _At least he didn't ruffle my hair,_ Harley thought. She risked a glance at Pamela. The other woman was watching them thoughtfully. When she noticed Harley's eyes on her, she flushed slightly and clapped her hands together. "Well? Shall we eat?" she said brightly.

"Yes! I'm starving," Rick said. "Need me to do anything, hon?"

Pamela said, "No, you two go ahead and sit down, catch up a little. I'll get the food ready."

Rick indicated a table in the back corner of the kitchen, and Harley followed him over. As they sat down, he said, "There's a dining room, but Pam and I don't think we'll use it much. I hope this is okay."

"Pop, I live in a one-bedroom apartment. I could probably use the oven while sitting on the toilet, if I had to." Rick chuckled at that. "It's kinda nice to be in a real house," Harley said.

He took her hand in both of his across the table. "I'm sorry we never made it up to visit, honey. And I know Florida is so far from New York."

Harley waved it away. "It's fine," she said. He regarded her seriously for a minute, and then Pamela came over with –

"Is that beef stroganoff?" Harley said.

Pamela paused, a steaming plate in each hand. "Oh – do you not like it? Your dad said –"

"My dad should know that I've been a vegetarian for the last seven years," Harley said, shooting him a look.

"Oh, that's right!" Rick said, laughing. "I forgot, you saw that documentary when you were 12, and ever since then –"

"I'm – I'm so sorry," Pamela said. "I had no idea." She froze, obviously mortified, and held the plates awkwardly.

"Look, it's fine," said Harley. She was irritated with her father, but she didn't want Pamela to think she was rude. "I'm actually not that hungry anyway. You two sit down and eat, and I'll just grab something on the way home."

Pamela set the plates down near the stove, then turned back to them. "Or – how about we sit in the living room and talk? Rick and I can eat later." She ignored the petulant look on her husband's face and held out a hand.

 _God help me, I almost took her hand! What is wrong with me today?_ Harley thought. She hoped neither of them could see the look of panic on her face as Rick took his wife's hand and stood up from the table. She sighed and followed them to the living room.

There was a couch and one chair – they'd obviously focused more on getting the kitchen ready, probably for this failed dinner. Pamela settled herself on one half of the couch, her legs tucked under her and to the side and one arm resting along the back of the couch. Harley resolutely ignored how composed she looked, how effortlessly elegant.

Rick sprawled next to Pamela on the couch, and Harley sat in the chair. She fiddled with her hands, absently pushing her cuticles back.

"Can I get you something to drink, Harley?" Pamela said.

"No thanks, I'm good."

There was another awkward silence.

"So, Rick tells me you're a gymnast?" said Pamela, after a pause. Harley nodded, still looking down at her hands.

"Harley, why so quiet tonight? Usually you can't get her to shut up," Rick said, elbowing Pamela gently in the side to show that it was a joke. She pursed her lips, looking a bit annoyed with him.

Harley shrugged. "I told you. Long day." She checked the time on her phone. "Actually, I have an early practice tomorrow. I should probably get going." She stood up, and her dad stood up too, putting a hand on her arm as if to stop her.

"Do you really have to go so soon?" he said. "You just got here."

"Yeah, but –" Harley floundered a bit – "you guys need to eat, and I need to grab something on my way home, and I just have a lot to do tomorrow. Bye, Pop." She hugged him quickly, then remembered her manners. "It was nice to meet you, Pamela," she said, not quite looking at her. "You have a lovely home." Then she headed for the door.

"Wait," she heard Pamela say behind her, "I'll walk you out."

Rick wandered back toward the kitchen, probably to stuff his face with beef stroganoff, and Pamela followed Harley out onto the front porch.

Pamela pulled the door shut behind them, and the two women found themselves alone for the first time.


	3. Chapter 3

Harley didn't hesitate – she headed straight for her bike and grabbed her helmet. "Thanks again for dinner," she said.

"Wait," said Pamela. Then, more quietly: "Please." Harley turned back, reluctantly.

She stood there on the porch, in that goddamn green dress, her hair twisted up in a loose bun (probably to get it out of the way while she cooked, Harley thought). A few tendrils had worked their way out and fell in curls that framed her face. The overall effect was stunning.

All Harley could do was look at her, waiting for her to say something.

"Rick didn't tell me you rode a motorcycle," Pamela said, finally breaking the silence.

Harley raised an eyebrow at that. "Rick doesn't know a lot of things," she said quietly.

Pamela glanced back at the house, then came down the steps and stood facing Harley, her arms crossed protectively in front of her. "Is this about earlier? When we – when I saw you at the restaurant?"

Harley half-shrugged. "I guess." She summoned her courage and said, "Why didn't you tell him that we met earlier?"

"I – I don't know," Pamela stuttered. "I guess I thought maybe you didn't want me to?"

The younger woman shot her a look but didn't say anything.

"Is this the part where you yell 'You're not my real mother!' and storm off?" Pamela said, and Harley laughed despite herself.

"Deflecting awkwardness with humor? Now you're speaking my language," she said with a grin.

Pamela smiled back. The evening sun was setting behind her, and her hair positively glowed.

 _With the red hair and the backlighting, this is some real_ Touched by an Angel _shit_ , Harley thought, shaking her head a little to clear it.

"I should get going, and you should probably get back inside," Harley said. She was still holding her helmet in front of her.

"Okay," said Pamela. She took a few steps toward the house, then turned back. "Tonight didn't go how I wanted it to go," she said. "I'd really like to get to know you better, if you'd be okay with that."

 _More than you know_ , Harley thought. Out loud, she said, "Of course. You're married to my dad." (Was it her imagination, or did Pamela wince a little at that?)

"Well, good night," said Pamela. "Drive safe." She climbed the steps to the porch and lifted a hand almost wistfully as Harley put on her helmet and turned her bike around in the driveway.

 _Don't look back,_ Harley told herself as she came to the first turn off of their street.

She looked back.

Pamela was still standing there.

 _Shit._

Harley hadn't been lying – she really did have an early gymnastics practice the next morning. But as she lay in bed, her mind was racing so fast that she knew she wouldn't get more than a couple hours of sleep.

She decided to stop fighting it and sat up in bed. "All right, Harley, you need to get your shit together," she muttered out loud. "Let's think this through because there really shouldn't be an issue.

"FACT: Your dad's new wife is very pretty. FACT: You met her earlier today at the restaurant and noticed that she was pretty. Neither of you mentioned that to your dad because . . . I don't know why. But it doesn't matter. FACT: They live nearby and you'll probably see them fairly regularly. So, the _only_ appropriate course of action is to get over this stupid crush or whatever it is."

Harley sighed. "And now I'm talking to myself."

She swung her feet over the side of the bed and hopped out. _Enough of this._

She did some stretches to loosen up her muscles.

She ate some Phish Food to feed her soul.

She took a hot shower to relax her body.

And when she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of Pamela, standing on the front porch once more, watching the sunset with her arms wrapped around Harley from behind.

The next morning, Harley was a wreck. She made it to practice on time, but she botched her floor routine and her coach yelled at her and she was pretty sure her teammates were snickering at her behind her back.

Classes went a little better. Harley had knocked out most of her basic requirements through AP classes in high school and a rigorous freshman year, so she was getting to take more classes in her chosen major, psychology. She was fascinated by her Intro to Clinical Psychology course and couldn't wait for Abnormal Psych.

Near the end of her last class of the day, her phone buzzed.

 _Hello Harley, this is Pamela. I'd like to apologize again for yesterday evening – I wish I'd had something vegetarian prepared for you, and this must all be very sudden, and I'd really like the chance to get to know you better. Would you be willing to have coffee with me tomorrow morning? Any time that works for you, my schedule is wide open._

Harley almost giggled out loud – it was the most formal text she'd ever seen! She wrote back: _NP, how's 8:30am?_ and she named a local coffee shop near campus that she often went to.

 _Sounds perfect_ , Pamela wrote back almost instantly. _I'll meet you there._

It was a mixed bag, Harley decided as she packed up after class and walked to her apartment. On the one hand, this was her dad's wife, and of course she should make the effort to get to know her better.

But on the other hand, well, she wanted _both_ of her hands all over her. _You need to get that shit under control, Quinzel,_ she told herself.

Work was less hectic that night, even the dinner rush. Bud was still out with Louise and the new baby, but Harley's coworker Zatanna was working and she was like two servers rolled into one, she was so good. Harley swore she was a magician – there was no other explanation.

After work, it was Harley's least favorite time of the day: Sad Sad Alone Time. She sat in her apartment, watching cartoons on her neighbor's "borrowed" cable, eating a healthy college girl meal of ramen noodles (Top Ramen Oriental was the only vegetarian flavor she could find), with Cocoa Puffs for dessert.

It wasn't that she minded being alone . . . no, wait, it was very much that she minded being alone. There were people she liked on her gymnastics team, in her classes, and at work, but right now there wasn't really anyone she could call on a bad day.

Harley wanted to be around people all the time – listening to them, talking to them, making them laugh, analyzing them – and these solitary evenings could sometimes put a dent in her normally boundless optimism.

But not tonight. Because tonight – she had something to look forward to.

Tomorrow, Operation Get To Know Pamela would commence!


	4. Chapter 4

Harley woke up seven minutes before her alarm was set to go off. (First time for everything!)

She hopped out of bed, showered, and yeah so maybe she took a little more care when she blow-dried her hair than usual, maybe she made sure her pigtails had the perfect amount of bounce and shine – but that was normal when you're getting to know someone, right?

Harley parked her bike a couple of blocks from the coffee shop so she could walk and enjoy the morning a little. She whistled the Powerpuff Girls theme song, peeked in windows, grinned at kids, bent to pet every dog she saw, and said "hi" to her friend Ernie where he sat in his usual spot – it was a beautiful, perfect day.

Then she passed an alley, and a voice rasped from the shadows:

"Hey, little girl."

She paused, squinted into the dim alleyway. There was a slender figure there, mostly obscured.

Harley would never be sure what made her stop. Curiosity, maybe. Or she had some nervous energy to burn before meeting Pamela. Or maybe she was just following her impulses, like usual.

But that one moment of hesitation would change everything.

He stepped half into the light. She could just make out a sharp profile, a tight purple t-shirt, black jeans. His blond hair looked almost green, the way the half-light was playing on it. Overall, it was disorienting and Harley felt a little queasy.

Summoning some bravado, she put her hands on her hips and said, "Who ya callin' a little girl?"

She heard his laugh for the first time then – one of his laughs, anyway. This one was a low cackle, mostly breath and very little voice. It was the laugh he used when something took him by surprise, but not in a threatening way.

Harley didn't know that yet, though.

"My mistake," he said, running one hand through his hair and grinning. "You may be tiny, but you're all woman, aren't you?"

"Ew," Harley said, turning on her heel and marching off. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to meet a . . . a person."

That low, breathy cackle followed her all the way to the corner.

But then – she looked across the street, where the coffee shop had a couple of tables on the sidewalk.

And she saw her sitting there.

And she forgot all about weird dudes in alleyways, about lack of sleep, heck she even forgot how to breathe. She just got lost in those green eyes as they snapped up to find hers. The world narrowed to a point like that weird effect in the movies where the background gets smaller and smaller and there's a whooshing sound and the main character has some huge realization?

 _Whoosh._

The light changed, and the Walk sign caught Harley's eye, snapping her out of whatever _that_ was. She smiled and gave an awkward little wave as she got closer to Pamela.

"Hi," they both said at the same time. Pamela squinted up at her, shielding her eyes from the sun. She was wearing a dress again, this one off-white with a scoop neck and green trim. "Um – I'll just run inside and grab something," Harley said. "You want anything? Water or something?"

Pamela chuckled lightly. "You're not my server, Harley. I'm good. Go get your caffeine fix."

Harley emerged several minutes later with an enormous drink in hand. Pamela actually snorted her tea at the sight. "What is _that_?" she said.

"What, this old thing?" said Harley. "My usual – venti mochaccino with an extra shot of espresso, chocolate syrup, extra whipped cream. When my friend Barbara's working, she calls it 'The Harley.'" She looked at Pamela's drink. "And what's that?"

"Tea."

"Oh. Yeah." Harley took a sip of her drink, not sure how to start the conversation.

"I got your number from your dad – I hope you don't mind," Pamela said.

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense," Harley said. She laughed once to herself, softly, just a little huff. "I thought maybe you got it from –" she shook her head – "never mind."

"Can we start over?" said Pamela suddenly. "Just – go back to the beginning?" Their eyes met, and Harley nodded once.

"Hi, I'm Pam."

"Harley."

"So what do you do, Harley?"

Pam's strategy was having its desired effect – Harley was loosening up. She loved getting to know people, so she relaxed into it. "Well, I'm a sophomore at Ithaca College, majoring in psychology." She hesitated for a second, her eyes flicking up to Pam's under her eyelashes, and then added a little shyly, "I'm thinking about going to med school to be a psychiatrist."

Harley paused. "And what about you, Ms. – Quinzel, is it?"

Pam blushed a little. "I kept my last name, actually – Isley. And it's Dr." She mumbled that last part as if she were embarrassed but determined to be 100% accurate.

"Doctor?" said Harley.

"Yeah," said Pam. "The PhD kind, not the useful kind."

"Too bad," Harley said with a grin. "I have this rash I was going to show you."

"Yes, that is a shame," Pam said dryly. Their eyes met, and Harley swore she saw that little spark again, that connection between them. Had to be her imagination.

"So, what's your PhD in?" Harley asked, taking a swig of her drink. She licked the whipped cream off her upper lip absently.

Pam cleared her throat. "Botany. I just got a teaching job at Cornell – I start teaching there next term."

"Ah, that explains the plants in the kitchen," Harley said, returning to her drink.

An easy silence fell between them. Pam stirred her tea with a tiny spoon even though there was nothing to stir into it. It made a little _clink_ sound against the teacup each time it came around. Her fingers stroked back and forth on the smooth metal of the spoon, and Harley had to break the silence: "So, how did you and my dad meet?"

"I was studying a rare plant species that grows in the Everglades," Pam said in that husky, Southern-tinged voice of hers. "Its natural habitat is only accessible by boat, and my boat pilot was so charming the first day that I asked for him by name the rest of the week."

 _Is it really 'boat pilot'?_ Harley thought. _What else would it be? Captain? Admiral?_ Then she realized that Pam was still talking, and she had rudely zoned out. She didn't want to think about why she was ignoring this particular part of the conversation.

"He waited a while to ask me out, which I appreciated," Pam was saying. "And he had the best stories." She paused and took a sip of her tea, then put it back down in the saucer daintily and said, "What do you find most interesting about psychology?"

It was the right question to ask. Harley could feel her whole face lighting up, and she leaned in eagerly. "Motivation. I love learning why people act the way they do, make the decisions they do, when logic is in control and when they give in to their more basic desires." She smiled to herself a little. "It goes way back for me – my first word was 'Why?' Drove my parents crazy."

Harley held her breath and snuck a glance at Pam – was it weird to mention her parents as a unit? But Pam just seemed interested in what she was saying.

"Fascinating," Pam murmured. "I find people . . . difficult, at times. Plants have always been easier for me to understand."

"Oh, I love people!" Harley exclaimed. "I'd be around them 24/7 if I could."

"You must have a roommate, then," said Pam. "Or . . . a significant other?" She avoided eye contact as she asked that last question.

"No to both," said Harley. "It's kinda lonely, you know? Or actually I guess you wouldn't know, since you don't like people all that much and anyway you're married, so you're around someone all the time and I know that I'm rambling now and hey, maybe I should get a pet!"

Pam looked a little confused, but once she processed what Harley was saying, her face brightened. "I think a pet would be perfect for you!"

"Okay, I'm sold," said Harley. Then she checked her phone. "Crap! I have to get going." She chugged the rest of her drink in one go, then stood and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Damn, that hits the spot," she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Pam chuckled, then sobered a bit. "This was . . . very nice for me. Thank you for agreeing to see me."

"Ah, don't be so weird and formal," Harley said, waving her off. "Just text me if you want to hang out again." Then she added, as an afterthought, "Tell my dad hi, okay?"

"I would, but he's away on business," Pam said.

"But – you guys just moved in this weekend," said Harley.

Pam shrugged, and Harley said, "Okay . . . well, I'll see you around." And she hurried back the way she'd come.

She side-eyed the alley as she approached it, and sure enough that quiet voice said, "Who's the redhead?"

"None of your business!" Harley retorted. "And you don't even know who the _blonde_ is."

He stepped fully into the light, then. He was several inches taller than Harley, even slouching against the wall. "Oh, but I sure would like to," was all he said. Then he winked at her and slunk back into the shadows.

Harley shook her head and kept walking, stifling this weird urge she had to smile.

The next morning, she picked up her phone and put it down no fewer than eight times, thinking and rethinking it. Finally, she texted Pam: _Hey, gonna get that pet now. Want to come? I don't have class til 1._

Just a few seconds later, she got a reply: _Meet you at the coffee shop in 30?_

Harley smiled and started the eternal search for her hairbrush. It wasn't every day she got a pet, after all, and she wanted to make an effort.

You know . . . for the animals.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't quite as beautiful a day today, a little gray and overcast, but Harley could not have been happier.

Because a) she and Pam had a nice talk yesterday, and b) PUPPIES AND KITTIES!

She parked her bike in its usual spot and set off for the coffee shop. She hustled a little past the alley, but no one rasped at her from the shadows today. (Was that – disappointment she felt? Weird. She shrugged it off.)

Pam was standing on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, clasping a green purse in front of her with both hands. She wore a black sleeveless dress, black flats, and she had a green ribbon in her hair. As always, she took Harley's breath away.

Her eyes lit up as soon as she saw Harley, who looked both ways before dashing across the street.

"Hi!" said Harley, a little breathlessly. Then she giggled – she couldn't help it.

Pam looked at her, brow furrowed. "What's so funny?"

"Well, I mean it's just that . . ." Harley gestured at her own jeans, Chuck Taylors and faded Ramones t-shirt, then at Pam's flawless ensemble. "We're on our way to an animal shelter, and you look like you're going to a cotillion!" She giggled again, couldn't help herself – Pam was just so adorable in that getup.

"This wouldn't be nearly formal enough for a cotillion," Pam said, a bit archly. Then she suddenly looked hesitant, patting her hair. "Do you think – should I go home and change?"

"Nah," said Harley, "just don't sit down anywhere, and be sure to watch out for poop." She grinned so cheerfully that Pam couldn't help but relax and smile back.

"Oh – do you mind if we take your car?" Harley said. "Just in case I get to bring a little friend home today?"

"Of course, that's fine," Pam said politely. "It's right here." She walked over to the green Prius that Harley had seen at their house the other evening and unlocked the doors. They both climbed in.

Harley felt a little nervous being in such an enclosed space, just her and Pam. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. No matter how much she told herself to act normal, she couldn't control the way her pulse sped up, the way her cheeks flushed, the way her breathing got shallow every time she caught sight of the redhead. There was no denying this awful, pointless, confusing attraction she felt.

But then Pam looked over at her and smiled, and Harley knew she would do anything to spend time with her, no matter how painful it might be.

"So, where is this place?" Pam said, starting the car. Harley opened her mouth to give her directions, but she was drowned out by _Welcome to Paradise_ blasting from the speakers _._ Really blasting.

Harley burst out laughing, and Pam flushed as she fumbled to turn the music down. "Green Day?" said Harley.

"What were you expecting? Fleetwood Mac?" Pam snorted. "I'm not _that_ old."

"Hey, don't knock Fleetwood Mac!" said Harley, even more amused now that Pam was offended. "I just wouldn't have thought 90s punk was your thing."

"Well, I'm full of surprises," Pam muttered as she looked over her shoulder and pulled onto the road. "Which way?"

The rest of the ride was quieter, except when Harley was directing her to the shelter. It was a few miles outside the city, to give the animals a little more space to roam.

As they pulled into the parking lot and Pam turned the car off, Harley looked at her. "You ready for this?" she said, waggling her eyebrows. Pam couldn't help but smile back.

The second they were inside, chaos erupted. "Harley!" yelled the huge guy behind the front desk, jumping up and running around to wrap Harley in a bear hug. He lifted her up off the ground, and Harley laughed, "Hey, Thomas! Long time no see!"

When Harley was safely on her feet again, she introduced Pam. "Thomas Blake, meet Pam Isley. Pam's here to help me pick out a furry friend, and Thomas is the heart and soul of this place."

"You two know each other?" Pam said.

"Well, I run the shelter," Thomas said proudly, "and Harley here is our very favorite volunteer. We haven't seen much of her lately, though – where you been, kid?"

"Oh, around," Harley said vaguely. "Now come on, Pam, let's go find me a baby!" Thomas sat back down at the desk and grinned affectionately at Harley as she impulsively grabbed Pam's hand and dragged her down the hall where the animals were kept.

"This is the cat room," Harley said as they came to a door on the right. She suddenly realized that she held Pam's hand tightly in hers, and abruptly let it go, blushing slightly. "After you!" she said, holding the door open for Pam.

They went inside the cat room, and Harley quickly shut the door behind them as cats and kittens of all sizes came swarming over, meowing and rubbing against their legs. Harley squealed and dropped to the floor. Cats licked her hands, kittens batted at her hair, and she felt like she was in heaven.

Then she looked at Pam and barely managed to stifle a laugh. The redhead was frozen in a similar pose to the one she'd taken outside the coffee shop, standing there with her purse gripped tightly in both hands as cats weaved in and out around her legs, rubbing their faces against her ankles, occasionally stepping on her shiny black flats.

"Why, Dr. Isley, I daresay you're not a cat person?" Harley said teasingly.

"I'm . . . not really an animal person," Pam said, a bit tensely.

"Come on, they won't bite!" Harley said, just as a kitten nipped her on the hand. "Ouch!" she said, and Pam actually giggled at that.

Harley grinned up at her. "I like this one," she said, gently scooping up the kitten who'd bitten her. "She's feisty." The kitten had orange fur and green eyes. "What's your name, sweet thing?" Harley cooed. She kissed the kitten on the top of its little round head and then set it gently down on the floor.

When she looked up at Pam next, the redhead's eyes had softened. Their eyes met and the moment stretched out, until Pam reached out a hand and said, "Did you want to go see the dogs now?"

"Puppies!" Harley exclaimed. She took Pam's hand and jumped to her feet. In order to avoid the cat swarm, she had to cling tightly to Pam's hand for an extra second or two while she caught her balance. (At least, that's what she told herself.)

Pam cleared her throat. "So . . . puppy room?" Harley nodded and took a careful step back, releasing Pam's hand and opening the door so they could sneak out without unleashing a flood of felines.

"The dogs are usually outside on nice days," Harley said, "but today they're probably in their kennels." She reached for Pam's hand again, surprised when she felt slender fingers curl around her own.

"Sorry for dragging you everywhere," Harley said quietly. "I'm just – I'm really excited to be here."

"I'm happy to be here, too," said Pam gently. "It's quite – entertaining, watching you."

"Hey – do you know what time it is?" Harley said. Pam started to check the time, but Harley interrupted her: "Puppy time!" Pam rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile as Harley dragged her down the hall toward the kennels.


	6. Chapter 6

Puppy time went pretty much the same as kitten time. Harley cheerfully greeted several more volunteers by name on the way to the kennels, and got lots of hugs and "We miss you"s in return. She rolled around with the dogs, giving special attention to the old ones, the mutts, the ones most people wouldn't look twice at.

Pam stood to the side, watching. Finally, Harley scrambled to her feet and crossed over to her, a little breathless. She giggled as one last dog jumped on her, ruffling its ears affectionately before they went out in the hall.

"I still can't believe you agreed to come with me today," Harley said, turning to face Pam, giddy from the whole morning. "For a non-animal person, you're showing a lot of patience."

Pam was looking at the floor, but now she looked up to meet Harley's eyes. "I –" she began. Then she looked at Harley's cheek. "You have a little mud – no, other side – no, that way – here, I'll get it," she said as Harley wiped ineffectually at her face.

Harley held her breath as Pam gently raised a hand to her cheek and rubbed the mud away with her thumb. Then she kept rubbing. They were inches apart. Her breath tickled Harley's eyelashes. God, her eyes were so green. Harley put all of her energy into NOT leaning into Pam's touch, NOT letting out the little moan that wanted to escape, NOT grabbing her around the waist and pushing her up against the wall and –

"So, Harley, what do you think?" said Thomas, coming around the corner. Harley and Pam jumped apart, and they must have looked guilty because Thomas gave them a funny look.

Harley hoped she pulled off 'cheerful' and not 'squeaky' when she said brightly, "I know which little buddy I want!"

"Awesome!" said Thomas. "I think we can waive the two-day waiting period in your case." He winked at her, and Harley clapped her hands.

Just then, Pam's phone buzzed. She looked at Harley apologetically, but Harley waved her off. "Go, take it! I'll meet you outside with my new furry friend in a few."

Pam smiled and took the call, heading toward the exit.

"Kitten room?" Thomas said.

"Kitten room," said Harley with a nod.

They walked down the hall together. "So . . . how do you know Pam? Are you guys in school together?" Thomas said.

Harley said, "Nope, she's my dad's new wife." She pointedly ignored the shocked look on Thomas's face.

When they reached the kitten room, Harley pointed to the one she wanted. "Ah, an excellent selection, Mademoiselle," Thomas said with a bow. "I'll just pack her up and get you a few of the basics, okay? On the house."

Harley started to protest, but he held up a hand. "Your money's no good here, kid," he said. "You really are my favorite volunteer. This is the best way I know how to thank you." Then he slipped into the kitten room before she could say another word.

Harley was practically glowing as she waited by the front counter, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement and anticipation of her new furry companion. Thomas's gift was so thoughtful – that was probably why her stomach was in knots and she couldn't stop smiling.

It certainly wasn't the memory of those smooth fingers against her jaw, that thumb gently caressing her cheek, that breathless moment when neither of them wanted to step back.

She snuck a glance outside at Pam. The other woman was leaning against her car, a more casual pose than Harley usually saw her in. She was talking animatedly on the phone, and at one point a smile lit up her entire face.

Harley had to look away.

"Here we go," said Thomas, appearing with a small cat carrier and a huge bag of . . . cat stuff, Harley assumed. He handed it over and opened the door for her. "She couldn't ask for a better home," he said.

As laden as her arms were, Harley couldn't hug him, so she sort of headbutted him affectionately on his muscular chest and got a rumbling laugh in return. "Nice to meet you, Pam!" he called, and she waved in return, disconnecting the call when she saw Harley coming.

Thomas went back inside, and Pam stashed her phone in her purse before coming over to look. She smoothly took the large bag from Harley, then popped the trunk of the hatchback.

Then, to Harley's astonishment, Pam knelt down right there in the parking lot so she could look in the cat carrier, apparently not noticing or caring that she was dressed for a luncheon, not for kneeling on asphalt.

Pam looked up at Harley and grinned. "You got the little orange one!"

That grin, and her genuine response, almost knocked Harley right over. She was pretty sure that the mewing cat carrier was the only reason she wasn't on her back in the parking lot.

"Yeah," she said after a pause, smiling shyly.

Pam stood, dusting off her knees. "I assume you want to hold her on your lap?" Harley grinned a little sheepishly and nodded, and they got in the car.

As Pam started the car, she said, "Have you decided what you're going to name her?"

"Daffodil," said Harley without hesitation.

"Daffodil," Pam repeated quietly. "I like it. Daffodils symbolize rebirth, new beginnings. A fitting name for a new part of your life."

"Plus, they're really pretty," said Harley.

"Yes, I've always loved them too," Pam said, smiling briefly at Harley before turning her attention to the road.

They drove for a few minutes in comfortable silence, listening to Daffodil's tiny meows. Harley poked a finger through the cat carrier for her to play with. Then Pam said, "Tell me something I don't know about you."

It took Harley by surprise, but only for a second. "Hmm . . . my real name is Harleen," she said.

"You're kidding!" said Pam.

"I wish I were," said Harley wryly. "Pretty sure my parents used a book called _Baby Names That Don't Actually Exist_. I changed that shit the second I could."

Pam giggled – _god, it's unfair that a woman like that should be allowed to giggle_ , Harley thought.

"Want me to tell you something you don't know about _you_?" Harley said impishly.

"Hmm, do tell," said Pam.

"You text like you're writing a dissertation," Harley said.

"What?" Pam said, gaping. "I'll have you know, spelling and grammar don't have to be completely thrown out the window just because you're typing on your phone."

"Yeah, but you also don't have to text as if you're proposing a corporate merger," Harley said, giggling herself now.

"Well . . . thank you for the completely unsolicited feedback, I suppose," said Pam, trying and failing to suppress her smile.

"You're also, like, ridiculous around animals," Harley went on.

"Ugh, can you blame me?" said Pam. "They're so – unpredictable."

"Well, you have to love this one," Harley said, reaching her finger through to pet Daffodil on her round head. "I named her after a plant for you."

Harley bit her tongue instantly, realizing what she'd said, but it was too late. She snuck a glance at Pam out of the corner of her eye, hoping she didn't think it was weird that Harley had just named her pet in honor of her.

She didn't look weirded out.

She was blushing. And focusing rather intently on the road. And her eyes were sparkling like she was trying not to smile.

Harley smiled, relieved, and settled back in her seat. She booped Daffodil gently on the nose.

And she kept smiling until Pam dropped her off outside the coffee shop.


	7. Chapter 7

Over the next few days, Harley got swept up in her normal routine: practice, classes, work, rinse and repeat. She threw herself into all of it with even more intensity than usual, hoping to drown out the incessant voice in the back of her mind that kept telling her to come up with an excuse to see Pam again.

She checked her phone constantly, hoping to see a new text message.

She went over and over their last conversation in her head, hoping that she hadn't said anything too weird ( _besides "I named her after a plant for you" –_ _Christ, Harley!_ ). When they pulled up outside the coffee shop, Pam had smiled and politely thanked Harley for an interesting morning. It seemed okay, maybe a little of a return to when they'd first met, but she didn't run screaming so that was something.

The best part of Harley's routine was coming home to Daffodil every night. She had a special "Eep!" sound that she only made right when Harley got home, so Harley knew it meant "Welcome home, favorite person! I missed you!" Daffodil sat beside her while she ate her Cocoa Puffs, and she curled up on Harley's pillow at night, a little motor running in her ear all night long.

One evening, as Harley lay on the couch reading her psych textbook with Daffodil curled up on her feet, her phone rang. She grabbed it off the floor (scaring Daffodil into the bathroom) and saw that it was her dad.

"Hey, Dad!" she said. "How was your trip?"

"Oh, you know," he said vaguely. "Work." Then he changed the subject, as he usually did when his work came up. "I heard you hung out with Pam a couple of times. Thanks for doing that, kiddo."

"It was no problem," Harley mumbled.

"We wanted to see if you could do Sunday dinner this weekend. No meat this time," he chuckled.

Harley winced a little at the 'we,' then mentally ran through her work schedule. "Yeah, that works for me," she said. "What should I bring?"

"Just your charming self, Pumpkin! See you Sunday." And he hung up, not waiting for her to say goodbye.

"Oh, Daffodil," she sighed to the kitten, who had just come out of the bathroom and graciously allowed Harley to pet her on the head. "What am I going to do?"

On Sunday evening, Harley pulled up on her motorcycle, exactly like a week ago. Only this time, she knew who was inside. She took a deep breath – _you can do this, Harley, just act normal –_ took off her helmet, and like always ran her fingers through her hair in a futile effort to tame it.

She stashed the helmet on the back of her bike, turned – and saw Pamela standing on the porch, frozen in the doorway, watching Harley with her mouth half-open and color blooming high on her cheeks.

"Hey," Harley said. She was aiming for cheerful – _normal_ – but it came out about an octave lower than usual. She cleared her throat to cover.

"Hi," Pam practically whispered. They shared another one of those weird moments, staring at one another across the lawn.

Then Rick came bounding out the door, beer in hand, a big grin on his face. He boomed, "Pumpkin! I didn't know you were here! Come on in!"

Pam faded away into the house, and Harley made her way up the front steps to give her dad a hug.

The first thing she noticed from the foyer was how many new plants there were. The living room was fully furnished now, with potted plants near every window.

And as Harley entered the kitchen, Rick trailing along behind her, all she could do was whisper "Wow."

Pam turned from where she was bustling at the kitchen counter, still blushing (or maybe blushing again?), a smile on her lips. "You like it?" she murmured.

"It's amazing," Harley breathed.

The windowsills were still overflowing with herbs and flowers, but now there were hanging plants in the corners and, somehow, vines trailing up a support beam.

And, on the table, a big happy bunch of yellow daffodils.

Rick put his arm around Pam's shoulders. "She really outdid herself in here, didn't she?" Pam seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact with Harley.

"She did," Harley said. She wasn't sure when the tables had turned, but it seemed that Pam was now more flustered than Harley was.

It made Harley dizzy to think about why that would be. So instead, she decided to focus on putting Pam at ease as much as possible.

"Mm, dinner smells great," she said. "I hope you made my favorite, chicken-stuffed steak!"

"I thought pork chops with a side of bacon would be simpler," said Pam, quickly catching on and flashing her a somewhat relieved smile.

"Perfect," grinned Harley. "Hey, let me set the table."

"I'll give you a hand," Rick said, grabbing another beer and showing her where everything was.

Dinner conversation flowed easily enough at first, although Harley wished her dad could have chosen a different topic.

". . . she's always been an independent one, got out of Canarsie as soon as she could – didn't you?" That last part was directed at Harley, who shrugged. "It's only a few hours away, Pop," she said.

"Applied on her own, to colleges all over the great state of New York," Rick went on. "And she got in to every single one, too!"

"Pop," Harley muttered.

"And she came here to Ithaca because she got an athletic scholarship AND an academic scholarship! Who would have thought? My little girl," he said proudly.

Harley deflected. "Eh, I just came to Ithaca College because David Boreanaz graduated from here." They both looked at her blankly, so she tried to change the subject. "This is delicious," she said to Pam, scooping up a particularly cheesy bite of vegetarian lasagna. But before Pam could reply, Rick went on: "She always takes on too much, though," he said, wagging his fork at Harley. "With work and school and gymnastics – I'm amazed she was able to make time for you at all last week, Pammie!"

"Guilty," Harley shrugged, with an apologetic look at Pam. She couldn't read the expression in Pam's eyes, so she busied herself with the lasagna again.

Then Rick's phone buzzed. He looked at it and groaned. "Aw, hell," he said. "They need me to come into the office." He stood up and kissed first Pam, then Harley on the top of the head. "You'd think I could have one night off . . ." he grumbled, searching for his shoes and hat.

He found them and shuffled back to the foyer. "Next time, ladies," he said, pausing at the door.

"Pop, are you sure you should –" Harley began, but he waved her off. "I'm fine, kiddo." Then, to Pam: "Don't wait up. This could take a while."

The door banged shut.

And then they were alone.


	8. Chapter 8

Harley and Pam looked at each other across the table. Harley tapped her fork against her plate nervously, then said, "You're a little quiet tonight."

Pam considered it for a second. "I was enjoying listening to Rick's stories about you."

"They're lame stories," Harley mumbled. "If you were from Canarsie, you'da gotten the hell out too. He makes it sound like such a big deal."

"Why don't you tell me your version?" Pam said gently.

Harley sighed. "Seriously, there's not much to tell. I applied, like Pop said, I got scholarships, like he said, and I just went where I could afford it and they had a decent psychology program. I work as a waitress, but you know that already" – Pam had the grace to look sheepish here, probably remembering their first meeting – "and it pays for my tiny apartment, my bills, and gas for my bike."

Then she grinned and added, "Oh, and Daffodil's food."

Pam's eyes lit up at the mention of Daffodil. "How is she?"

"Best little furball a girl could ask for," Harley gushed. "She's so snuggly, and she purrs so loud for such a little thing, and it might sound stupid, okay I get that she's a cat, but it's so nice to have someone be excited to see me when I get home."

"Doesn't sound stupid," Pam said absently, swirling her finger around the rim of her glass.

They finished eating and cleared the table together. "Just leave the dishes in the sink," Pam said. "I'll get them later."

Then she paused for a moment, looked at the floor and said, "Do you want – I mean, would you be willing to – do you have time to hang out a little while longer?"

Harley summoned all her courage and reached out to lift Pam's chin with two fingers, until their eyes met. "I told you not to be all weird and formal," she said with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

After what seemed like an eternity, Pam smiled back. "Cool, dude," she said. "Let's go chillax on the couch and watch some telly."

Harley dropped her hand in mock shock. "Just – what the – what even _was_ that?" she said as they made their way to the couch. "I'm embarrassed to know you. Like, you used awkward slang sort of incompetently and then you somehow transitioned into a British accent? I just – I can't even." She threw her hands up and flopped down on the right end of the couch.

Pam threw a pillow at her. It hit her square in the face and bounced to the floor.

"I'll have you know," Harley said, pointing a finger at her, "that with my gymnastics skills, I could easily have backflipped out of that pillow's path. I'm just trying to be a good guest here."

"If I had another pillow, I would throw it at you right now and test that absurd claim," Pam said, hiding her smile behind her hand as she sat down and arranged herself on the left end of the couch. She wasn't in a dress, for once, but she wore skintight jeans and a light green tank top that rode up as she sat, and Harley found it equally distracting if not more so.

Pam found the remote and turned it to a home improvement show.

(Neither of them would catch a second of that home improvement show, but it provided some comforting background noise for their conversation.)

"Why are you a vegetarian?" Pam asked, shifting to face Harley. Her knees were bent, legs tucked under her as she leaned her head on the arm that rested on the back of the couch.

Harley mirrored her pose, only slightly mockingly but enough so that Pam narrowed her eyes. "I just plain love animals and don't want to eat them," Harley said with a shrug. "It's as simple as that."

"I can see that," Pam said. "I try to buy local whenever I can, organic when I can't find local foods. I love plants, but I don't mind eating them."

"Why do you love plants so much?" Harley asked. "Not just why do you study them in an intellectual way, but why do you _love_ them?"

Pam thought about it for a long moment. "They're just so . . . efficient," she said. "Humans are so messy." She leaned forward a little, swept up in a topic she was passionate about. "Think about how plants convert matter to energy versus how humans do the same. If I could choose between photosynthesis or intake and excretion, I'd pick photosynthesis in a heartbeat."

"But you wouldn't _have_ a heartbeat," said Harley. "Because you'd be a plant."

"I swear we used to have more pillows around here," Ivy muttered threateningly.

Harley stuck out her tongue, but then thought more about Pam's words. "For me, eating is much more than just – how did you so charmingly put it? Intake and excretion? It's a chance to experience other cultures, to interact with people – and it just tastes so damn good!"

They sat in silence for a minute, still facing one another, as the TV droned on about renovations in the background.

"Why did your parents move to Florida?" Pam asked suddenly.

Harley looked at her, a little surprised by the question. "I'm not really sure," she said. "It was Pop's idea, of course. Mom was just along for the ride. They moved right after I came to Ithaca, guess the old house wasn't the same without me."

She looked past Pam now, lost in memory. "Then one day, my mom called, and I knew right away what it was. She was crying, and I remember thinking 'Well, it's about time' and just being so _annoyed_ with her that she didn't see it coming."

Her eyes focused on Pam again, and she realized where she was. "Oh man, I'm so sorry! I shouldn't be talking this much about it. You probably think I'm trying to –"

"Trying to what?" Pam said softly. She was much closer than Harley remembered.

Harley scooted a little closer, seeking warmth, or comfort, or something she couldn't quite name. Their knees bumped together.

Slowly, tentatively, never breaking eye contact, she reached out her right hand and rested it oh so gently on Pam's left hip.

Pam let out a little sigh.

She didn't move Harley's hand.

Harley kept her hand very, very still. She moved just her thumb, slowly sliding it below the hem of Pam's tank top and then back up, so that it was resting on her bare hip.

Pam's nostrils flared slightly as she exhaled.

She still didn't move Harley's hand.

Harley moved her thumb then, in careful, light, tiny circles on that little sliver of bare skin. "God, your skin is soft," she whispered, barely louder than a breath.

Pam bit her lower lip with perfect little white teeth.

In a broken voice, she said one word: "Harley."

That one word contained everything that was between them.

That one word told Harley what she needed to know.

She wasn't alone in this. It wasn't her imagination. This was real, this thing they both felt.

Harley leaned forward, a tiny bit.

Pam flinched.

And Harley ran.

She got up from the couch and walked to the front door without a word.

She got on her bike and rode back to town, fast bordering on reckless.

Harley didn't know where she was going until she got there. She parked her bike and walked to the alley where she knew she'd find him, even at this hour on a Sunday night.

"About time," rasped his voice from the darkness.

"Shut up and buy me a drink," Harley said.


	9. Chapter 9

The buzzing of Harley's phone woke her up.

She flailed an arm out, thinking her phone was on her bedside table like always, and instead ended up whacking the back of her hand hard against her coffee table.

Her eyes were still squeezed shut, but she was pretty sure that meant she was on the loveseat.

And that meant she'd crashed in her living room after . . . oh, god.

The phone was still buzzing, and Harley swept her hand along the floor until she felt it.

"Hello?" she groaned.

"Harleen? You sound terrible. Are you sick?"

 _Ugh. Too early for this._ "Oh. Hey, Mom. No, I'm fine."

"You haven't called in weeks."

"Sorry, been busy," Harley mumbled.

Her mom was quiet for a minute. Harley might have dozed off, briefly, and then her mom was saying, "Have you met her yet?"

"Who?" said Harley, playing dumb.

"Harleen, you know who. Your father's newer model."

"Oh. Yeah, I met her." _Met her, fell for her, sort of made a move on her last night and ruined everything . . ._

"And?"

"And nothing, Mom. She's nice." _I named my cat after a plant for her. It made her blush._

There was another pause. Harley thought maybe her mom would ask how she was doing – how classes, practice, work were going. You know, mom stuff.

"Well, I have to get going. I'm in charge of the ice cream social at church." _Wrong kind of mom stuff._

"Okay, Mom."

"Don't forget to call this weekend."

"Bye, Mom."

Harley hung up and threw the phone down on the loveseat with slightly more force than was necessary. It bounced and hit her in the knee, and when she grabbed it she noticed an unread text message from a number she didn't recognize.

 _First time was on me, blondie. Next time, you pay._

Well, that wasn't creepy in the least.

Harley rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up. Her head was pounding, but at least she didn't feel nauseous. She side-eyed Daffodil, who was sitting in a patch of sunlight watching her. "Don't judge me, cat."

Harley creaked to her feet and shuffled to the kitchen to get a glass of water, then to the bathroom so she could shower and hopefully feel a little more human.

She looked at herself in the mirror. "Harley, you look like hell," she said to her reflection.

Her shoulder-length blonde hair, which was usually bouncy and shiny and a pretty decent reflection of her personality, hung limply around her face. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and missing their usual mischievous sparkle.

She thought about her mom. She thought about her dad.

 _Are they in there at all?_ she thought, peering more closely at her reflection.

As much as her dad disappointed her growing up, he was definitely the one she identified with more. She knew that her charm, her ability to talk to anyone, her sense of humor and mischief and fun all came from him.

Her mom was just, well . . . a mom. She put most of her energy into raising Harley, keeping the house clean, getting dinner on the table. Being there, which should count for something.

It wasn't the life Harley wanted for herself – losing herself in her relationship, always taking second place to her man.

But she was more worried about turning into her dad.

 _Ugh, too early for this_ , she thought, and she tore herself away from the mirror to get ready for class.

Her Intro to Clinical Psych class was walking distance from her apartment, so after showering and throwing on some clothes, she grabbed her backpack and twisted her hair into pigtails and headed out.

Her thoughts rambled as she walked, without any particular rhyme or reason. After last night, every dark alley she passed filled her simultaneously with dread and a sickening sort of anticipation. Alleys now reminded her of _him_.

She was 90% sure nothing had happened last night, not even a kiss. Which was weird – surely, in the state she was in, he could have gotten a good-night kiss at least. And he didn't strike her as the gentlemanly type.

The dive bar they'd gone to was dark and dingy and perfect for what she needed. She remembered shots of whiskey, and maybe some beers? And eventually, she'd been able to forget.

Or, wait – had she spent the whole time drunkenly ranting about Pam? Shit. That was a distinct possibility. Harley remembered flashes – slamming her fist down on the bar, slurring "It's just not FAIR!", seeing him leer and laugh and cup his chin in his hand, looking mock-seriously at her, asking her to tell him more.

Goddammit.

Class was a welcome distraction from her dark thoughts, although when they got a little intro to behavioral economics, it made Harley question her own stupid decisions.

After a couple more classes, she headed home and changed before working the dinner shift.

Still no voices hissing from dark alleys.

Harley was thrilled to see that Bud was back from paternity leave, and she scrolled through his phone and cooed over pictures of the new baby. With her and Bud and Zatanna there, work was a breeze, and she managed to put on a brave face – or at least she thought she did.

They sent Bud home to be with his family, and she and Zatanna closed up. When they were about to leave, Zatanna leaned against the wall and said, "You look like shit. What's going on?"

Harley was surprised – they'd been working for a while, but Zatanna had never asked her anything personal before. She shrugged and said, "Just life stuff."

"Come on," said Zatanna. "You're obviously hung over, but we're going out."

"Okay," Harley said.

They went to a nearby bar, nicer than the one she'd gone to last night but still pretty lax as far as carding college students. Harley talked in vague terms about her dad and his new wife, and they laughed about Zatanna's major crush on her TA, a blond guy named John.

And it was . . . nice. Harley realized that she needed to do more of this.

After a couple of drinks, they said good night, and Harley thanked her for dragging her out of her misery. Zatanna just winked and vanished into the night.

The nights were getting lighter and warmer, and Harley felt better than she'd felt all day as she walked back to her apartment. She started to think that maybe she'd get through this – that she could put the awkwardness behind her. She could stop going over for Sunday dinner, stop texting Pam, get through the last few weeks of class and then maybe take off somewhere for the summer. Yeah – that would give her enough time and space.

Probably.

Harley was fishing for her keys as she rounded the corner of her apartment building, and she was a _teensy_ bit unsteady on her feet, so it wasn't shocking that right before she got to the front door, she collided with someone.

"Shit! I'm so sorry!" she said, grabbing their arms instinctively so she didn't teeter over backwards.

And then somehow, before she even looked up, she just _knew_. Maybe it was a smell, or a glimpse of long elegant legs, or just the way her body felt electrified all over.

Harley slowly, slowly raised her head, then gasped as she met Pam's eyes.

Because she looked _furious._


	10. Chapter 10

Pam made sure Harley was steady on her feet, then pulled Harley's hands from where they were gripping her arms and took a step back.

She folded her arms across her chest and just looked at her.

"Wh- what are you doing here?" Harley said.

"We need to talk," said Pam frostily.

Harley mutely unlocked the front door, then led the way to her apartment. Pam stalked along behind her.

Harley paused as she unlocked her door. "It's not much," she said sheepishly.

"I really don't care," Pam said, and Harley winced at her tone.

They went in, and Pam shut the door behind them, then turned to face Harley. Her arms were still folded, and the look in her eyes was sort of terrifying.

 _She's going to yell at me now,_ Harley thought.

But she didn't.

"You – you left me," Pam said quietly.

 _What?_ Harley thought.

"What?" Harley said out loud.

Pam sighed and tapped her exquisitely manicured green fingernails against one arm impatiently. "You are familiar with the concept, correct? When two people are in one place and then one of them departs suddenly?"

"I know what it means," Harley mumbled. "I just don't see why that's the part that matters." She plopped down on the loveseat, feeling a little drunk and a lot defeated. Pam stayed in her position by the door, arms folded, lips a thin line.

Then Harley looked up at her. "Wait a second – how do you know where I live?"

"I asked Rick," Pam said, flushing slightly.

Harley was confused. "I don't even think he has my address," she said slowly. "He's not really the address-knowing kind of dad."

"Fine, I called the administrative office and asked!" Pam snapped. "They said they only give out addresses to family members, so I said – I said I was your stepmother."

Harley stood up. "There!" she said, jabbing a finger in Pam's direction. "That right there. Do you realize that's the first time either of us has used that word? Do you not think that says something?"

"What does it say, Harley?" Pam said, throwing her hands wide in exasperation. "That marriages late in life with adult children are complicated? That I've never done this before, so I didn't know what you'd want to call me?"

"No," said Harley, shaking her head. "No, that's bullshit, and you know it." She started walking over to Pam slowly. "You're a smart woman, Pamela. Don't you dare try to tell me that this is normal Brady Bunch adjusting-to-the-family stuff."

"Okay," said Pam. "You can call me whatever you want – I don't care. The point is, you had no right to run out on me like that last night."

Harley scoffed. She was standing a few feet away now. "I had no right? You honestly think you can stand there and say that to me? Like there's some kind of Emily-fucking-Post rule book for this exact situation?"

"You do not just run out after something like that!" Pam practically yelled. Harley had never heard her raise her voice before. Pam took a breath and went on, quieter now. "You left me there, alone and confused. We have to talk about this like grownups."

Harley crossed her arms and glared at her. "Oh, so now I need to act more mature? Is this you finally playing the stepmom card?"

"Don't you fucking do that to me," Pam said, closing the distance between them, fists clenched at her sides, breathing hard. "That's not what this is, and you know it."

"Then what is it, Pam?" Harley said quietly, defiantly. She paused, looking into those blazing green eyes. " _Say it._ "

Pam blew out a frustrated breath, disturbing one of the tendrils of hair that had come loose from her casual updo. "I – I don't have a frame of reference for this."

Harley took a deep breath. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that she'd had some liquid courage earlier. She looked up at Pam and said gently, "Is the problem that you're attracted to a woman?"

"No, that's not it," Pam said absently, waving the thought away. "Sexuality is a spectrum, I'm a scientist, I don't give a shit about _that_." Then she realized what she'd just admitted to and gulped. "Well, shit," she said. Now Pam was the one who crossed to the loveseat and flopped down, looking stunned. "I guess that's out in the open now."

Harley smiled to herself, just a tiny one, not her usual grin. She turned to Pam and cautiously made her way over to sit on the arm of the loveseat. Pam didn't meet her eyes.

"Okay, so," Harley began. "My whole life, I haven't exactly had the best role models to look up to – we can talk about that sometime later, if you want. And then the _one time_ my dad actually gets it right, brings someone into our lives that I truly respect – I end up fucking it up. Getting all these complicated feelings for her. Trying to, I don't know, do something about it." She trailed off and said, very quietly, "It's not fair."

"It's not fair," Pam mumbled in agreement, still looking at the floor. Then she dragged her eyes up to look at Harley. "But you didn't fuck anything up."

Harley laughed, a bitter little huff. "How are we supposed to – to come back from this?" She knew how desperate the look in her eyes must be, how vulnerable she was in that moment. "How am I supposed to pretend like everything is fine?"

Pam sighed and leaned her head back, looking at the ceiling. Without consciously deciding to, Harley reached out a hand and gently ran her fingers along the red hair that spilled across the back of the loveseat.

Pam's eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed again, deeper this time. "Harley . . . we can't," she breathed. Harley reluctantly pulled her hand back, and Pam turned her head to face her. "Maybe what we need to do is simple," she said. "Maybe we just need to – to not be alone like this."

Harley nodded silently, sadly.

"Because when we're alone like this," Pam continued, hardly above a whisper, her eyes boring into Harley's, "I don't think I can control myself."

"Jesus, Pam, you can't _say_ things like that," Harley said through gritted teeth. She got up and went to the sink, got herself a glass of water just for something to do with her shaking hands.

She heard Pam stand up from the loveseat, heard her careful footsteps as she walked over to stand behind Harley. "I know," Pam murmured. Harley felt a tentative hand settle on her hip, felt warmth radiating against her back. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. "God, I know," said Pam, lips just _barely_ grazing the side of Harley's neck.

"Don't," Harley managed to say. She felt Pam nod, felt her pull away and move toward the door.

They turned toward each other at the same instant. "So . . . coffee sometime?" Harley said, a little nervously. "In a safe, neutral location where I'm much less likely to maul you?"

Pam smiled – god, she could live off of that smile alone, Harley's entire Maslow's hierarchy was made up of varying degrees of Pam's smile – and said, "Coffee would be lovely."

Then she was gone.

Harley sank to the floor right there by the kitchen sink. Daffodil came out of the bathroom where she'd been hiding during the fight and meeped at her, nuzzled against her hand until Harley petted her on the head.

Her phone buzzed, and she reached up and pulled her bag off the counter excitedly, thinking it might be from Pam.

It wasn't.

 _Meet me at the bar from last night_ was all he wrote.

Harley stood up. Sighed. Shook her head as if that would clear it from thoughts of Pam.

She texted him back: _See you in 20._

Then she went to get ready.


	11. Chapter 11

Pamela Isley's life was about control, until one day it wasn't.

As she drove away from Harley's apartment that night, she couldn't gather her thoughts, couldn't formulate a hypothesis or a plan, couldn't get any measure of the control she craved.

All she could think about were blue eyes, soft skin, words so full of emotion that they were choked out through gritted teeth.

She did what she always did in rare moments like these: got out her phone and dialed a number.

The person on the other end picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?" said a scratchy voice.

"Hi, Selina," Pam said quietly.

Selina chuckled. "Ivy, babe, do you have any idea what time it is here?"

"If you're still in Milan, I'm guessing maybe . . . 5am?"

"Close enough. It's a time of day when I would only answer the phone for you. So what's up?"

Pam paused for a second. "Kitty . . . I fucked up."

Selina gasped. "Why I do declare, Dr. Isley, was that unladylike language I just heard come out of your mouth?"

"You're shittin' right it was," Pam said, then winced at how stupid that sounded.

"That was absolutely horrible," Selina said, her amusement crackling over the line. "F for effort. Just stick with what you know, babe. And tell me all about this fuck-up. Did you leave Boat Boy?"

"His name is Rick," Pam chided her absently, automatically. "And no, I didn't leave him."

"Shame," said Selina. "Because I'm headed to Venice next week, and I'm sure I could find you a nice Gondola Boy or two."

Pam laughed despite herself. "God, it's good to hear your voice," she said.

"You too, sweetie," said Selina. "Now spill."

So Pam did.

She told Selina everything – they'd been best friends since college, and Selina Kyle was the one person that Pam trusted completely.

She told her about Harley – Selina knew she existed but had never heard about their first coincidental meeting at the restaurant, about how right from the start they'd had this insane connection and had flirted the whole time.

"You don't flirt," Selina interrupted. "Yes, I'm aware of that," Pam retorted. "So anyway –"

"Your flirting skills are even worse than your cussing skills," Selina went on. "Like, I honestly can't even imagine what that would look like."

"Remind me again why I'm friends with you?" said Pam. "Now shut up and let me finish."

She told her about that first awkward family dinner – and at this point, Selina dissolved into uncontrollable giggles until Pam snapped at her again, then continued.

"And for some reason, neither of us told Rick about how we met at the restaurant, and that just made it so much weirder, and then he didn't tell me she was a vegetarian and I tried to feed her _beef_ , and you know I was raised to be the perfect hostess. That night, I just felt like I was failing on all fronts."

"Failure is not a good look on you, my dear," Selina said kindly. "Perfection is more your style."

"I just wanted to fix everything, and I couldn't control anything – how I felt, how Harley reacted to the situation, any of it." Pam sighed. "I walked her out to the porch, waved as she rode off on her motorcycle –"

"Hot!" Selina exclaimed.

"Yeah, no kidding," Pam said wryly. "This girl is killing me."

"So jump ahead to tonight," said Selina. "What has you calling me at fuck off o'clock?"

"Well," said Pam, "we hung out a few times, got coffee and I helped her pick out a kitten and she named it after a plant for me –"

"Jesus Christ," said Selina, and Pam could _hear_ the eye roll.

"And everyone loves her, and she's so happy all the time, and when she smiles the whole room lights up, and we kept accidentally having these awkward moments of chemistry where I felt like my skin was on fire."

"Oh, sweetie," Selina said, serious now. "You've got it bad."

"Yeah," Pam admitted. "Yeah, I think I do." She was driving around aimlessly now, the streets mostly abandoned at this hour. Pam sighed and forged ahead.

"And then – last night, she was over for dinner, and Rick had to leave for work, and we ended up on the couch –"

"Oh my god, you slept with her?!" Selina yelped.

"What? No! But she touched my hip," said Pam.

"Good lord, Ivy, that's – not even a thing, you big weirdo," Selina said affectionately.

Pam swallowed. "I know it sounds stupid, but it was very much a thing. And then – then she leaned forward like she was going to kiss me."

"And then you bolted," said Selina.

"I sort of flinched, and _she_ bolted," Pam corrected her.

"Ah," said Selina. "So now you're avoiding her."

"God, Selina, you're 0 for 1000 tonight," Pam said. "I actually just left her apartment. I went over there to talk with her about all of this. And we admitted our attraction, and we decided we'll only hang out in well-lit, public places from now on."

Selina was silent for a minute. Then she said, "I'm obviously not going to try to guess what happens next, because you're like this wild new version of Pam, and I love it. Just tell me what you need from me and I'll do anything I can to help you."

"This, Kitty," Pam said with a smile. "Just this." They were comfortably quiet, and then Pam said, "Okay, you can go back to sleep now."

"Jesus, I thought you'd never say those sweet words!" said Selina. "I love you, Ivy. You can call me any time, but clearly I don't have to tell you that."

"Love you too, Kitty," Pam said, and hung up.

She looked out the window, absorbing her surroundings for the first time. This far from the city, the stars were out.

She thought of Harley, how she would look in the starlight, how she'd probably hold out her arms and spin around and say something amazing.

Pam smiled.

Then she turned the car around and headed home.


	12. Chapter 12

Pam's first thought when she woke up the next morning was _Is it too soon to text her?_

She checked the time on her phone – it was later than she normally awoke, and Rick would already have left for work.

Pam got out of bed, smoothing down her silk pajamas as she stood up. She made herself a cup of tea in the kitchen and enjoyed it on the front porch, along with half a grapefruit and some yogurt.

 _Okay, that was long enough_ , she thought, and went back into the bedroom to get her phone.

Remembering how Harley had mocked her previous texts, she kept it short:

 _U? Me? Coffee 2day?_

And hit "send" before she could think better of it.

She tapped her foot impatiently, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her phone. When Harley didn't reply right away, she told herself she was fine with it and went to take a shower.

Pam came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, another around her hair, and didn't even try to suppress her grin when she saw she had a new text message:

 _Lol nice try w the txting. 1 hr?_

Pam sent back an emoji of chocolate pudding, hoping Harley would know that it meant "Yes!"

She blow-dried her hair, then used her curling iron until it fell in perfect waves. Pam's mother had often told her that her hair was her best feature – not her intellect, or her love of science – her hair.

But she pushed aside her resentment, and she had to admit when she was finished that it did look incredible today.

Pam put on her favorite dress – the green halter-top, the one she'd been wearing when she met Harley for the first time – grabbed her purse, and headed out.

She parked the Prius right in front and saw that for once, Harley had beaten her there.

 _She looks tired_ , Pam thought. Harley wore big sunglasses and was leaning her chin in her hand. But as soon as the car door shut, she looked up and Pam could tell the moment she saw her because her face lit up like the sun.

"Hi," Harley said, not quite as brightly as usual.

"Hi," said Pam. She noticed that across from Harley's chocolate monstrosity, there was a cup of tea already waiting for her. She blushed, hoping it wasn't too obvious, and quietly said, "Thanks," indicating the tea as she sat down.

Harley shrugged. "Sorry about the sunglasses," she said. "Late night."

"You didn't seem that drunk when I left last night," said Pam. _Did she go out after I left?_ she thought. _Wait, it's none of my business._

Harley's cheeks flushed a little. "I didn't think I'd hear from you this soon," was all she said in response, which didn't seem related at all. Then she said, "Can I ask you something?"

Pam nodded, a little unsure.

"You might not want to talk about this with me, and I get that," Harley said quietly, leaning forward. "But I have to ask – what's the real reason you married my dad?"

Pam was not expecting that, and she took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to hide how taken aback she was. "Well," she began, "on the one hand, it was logical. I had just been offered the job at Cornell, Rick mentioned wanting to move back to New York, and at one point he joked that we could save money if we got married and got a house together."

She paused and squinted for a minute, thinking hard. She wished she could read Harley's expression, but those damn glasses made it impossible.

"Then the rest of it was more emotional than logical, I guess. He's charming, optimistic, gets me to go outside my comfort zone. He's not intimidated by me the way a lot of people are." Pam smiled at Harley. "It won't surprise you to hear that I'm used to an orderly life. The scientific method is sort of my guiding principle. And it's the first time in my life I've taken a risk like that." She paused again, not sure if she should continue. "I guess he just kind of . . . swept me off my feet, you know?"

Harley's face was still unreadable. "Why do you ask?" Pam said neutrally, taking a careful sip of tea.

"I'm just . . . trying to understand it," Harley said. She mirrored Pam, taking a sip of her own drink. "We can talk about something else now, if you want."

Pam thought for a moment, then said, "I like the way your eyes light up when you talk about psychology."

Harley froze, halfway to setting her drink down. Pam smiled a tiny smile and went on: "It reminds me of how I've always felt about botany. Most people don't seem to have that same level of passion for anything, so I always tone it down. With you, it feels like I don't have to."

"God, Pam," Harley said quietly, tensely. She finished setting down her cup and leaned her forehead on her hand, looking at the table.

"I told my friend Selina about you," Pam said suddenly.

Harley instantly looked back up at her. "Told her . . . what, exactly?"

Pam smiled, a little sheepishly. "Um . . . pretty much everything?" Harley's mouth actually fell open in shock. "I trust her," said Pam simply. "And she's in Italy, so I seriously doubt she's going to put an announcement in the Ithaca paper."

Harley closed her mouth. She slowly pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, taming her wild hair a little (no pigtails today, Pam noticed), squinting in the sunlight. She looked at Pam intensely and said, "Tell me."

"What do you mean?" said Pam.

"I want you to tell me about your friend, because I'm fascinated by the fact that you have one," Harley said. Pam kicked her lightly under the table for that. "And then I want you to tell _me_ about 'everything.'"

Pam gulped. This wasn't how she'd pictured today going. _A lady must rise to every challenge_ , her mother's voice said in her head, and Pam said, "Okay.

"Selina is my best friend. We met sophomore year of college and lived together junior and senior year. Let's see . . . she's blunt, and she comes from a wealthy family, and she's currently traveling Europe just because."

She looked at Harley, who was watching her, rapt. Pam cleared her throat and went on. She wasn't used to talking this much. "She's the only person I can really talk to – well, maybe you're on that list now too." She saw Harley's little smile at that.

Pam ran a hand through her hair, leaning back a little as she continued: "We, um, we got tattoos together one wild night. She got a black cat, and I got a trailing vine of ivy. And ever since, we've called each other Kitty and Ivy."

Harley's eyes took on an almost feral quality. "Where is it?" she said, a bit intensely.

Pam just quirked an eyebrow at her and said, "Maybe I'll show you sometime." Harley's nostrils flared at that, and she bit her lower lip, just barely. _Shit, Pam!_ the redhead said to herself. _Totally goes against what you're supposed to be doing here! Quick, change the subject!_

"Um . . . I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Selina's not that big a fan of your dad."

"Why?" Harley said, instantly alert.

Pam shrugged, tried to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal. "She says she doesn't trust him. I don't know why, exactly, but she always goes with her gut to the point of insanity. So . . . that's Selina!"

"Okay," said Harley, nodding. "That was good. Now tell me about us."

"U – us?" Pam croaked.

"Yeah," Harley said. "About how we met and stuff. You play everything so close to the vest, I never know what you're really thinking. So . . . tell me something."

Pam sighed. This felt like dangerous territory – even out in the sunshine, in public, she couldn't trust herself to behave anymore.

But Harley was looking at her. Waiting.

"Okay," said Pam. "I'll start at the beginning."


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi from the author! Whether you've been following this little fic from the start or just ran across it today, congrats on making it this far.**

 **I'd love to hear from you. Anything that does/doesn't work for you about the story? Anything seem out of character? Questions you'd like to see answered in later chapters? Want to have an in-depth discussion of what drives Pamela Isley?**

 **Let's talk! Hit me up with a review - I respond to every one.**

 **Your pal in Red Diamond-hood,**  
 **areyoukiddingmedude**

Pam and Harley looked at each other across the table outside the coffee shop, where Harley was essentially grilling Pam, aggressively pulling her out from behind her carefully constructed defenses. Pam wasn't sure what had prompted the interrogation, but she was going along with it as best she could, feeling that perhaps some transparency would be good at this point.

She took a sip of tea and put the cup back in its saucer, then swirled the tiny spoon around absently.

"The first time I saw you," Pam began, "you made me laugh out loud. And that doesn't happen very often." She got a little bit of a far-off look in her eyes and said, "If I laughed out loud while I was growing up, I'd get a talking-to about appropriate behavior." Her eyes focused on Harley again, and she smiled sadly. "But here you came along, talking about how your name was Hhh the Third, and you were so bubbly and charming and a bit awkward, and so damn pretty, and I felt for once like I wanted to make a connection with someone. Just – just to talk to someone, laugh with them."

"And then our hands touched," Harley murmured.

"Yes," Pam said. "And I felt – I don't know. A spark, a jolt." She hesitated, then decided to forge ahead. "And I won't lie – I was actually _flirting_ with you that day. I still don't know why. I don't flirt. I barely even engage with people. But you had this sort of . . . effect on me. I don't know how to describe it."

She looked down and sighed. This was uncomfortable, but at the same time strangely freeing.

Harley was quiet for a beat, and then said, "I gave you my number, you know."

Pam was glad she was looking down, because the flush that spread to her cheeks would have been a dead giveaway. She managed to squeak out what she hoped was an unaffected "Oh?" _Because why did you take her number, Pam?_ she admonished herself. _Even if you didn't know she was Rick's daughter. You knew why she left it, what you both felt._

There were some things she just couldn't admit to, not yet. So she moved on.

"Seeing you at dinner that night was – a shock, to put it mildly. And everything went wrong, and I was incredibly stressed out trying to be a proper hostess and a wife and to balance whatever the thing between us was."

She looked up at Harley now. "And then I walked you out – I'm not even sure why I did that, just felt we needed a moment to talk alone, I guess. I watched you drive away. I stood there on the porch for a long moment, composing myself, and then I went back in.

"Rick was already eating. I served myself a small plate of the stroganoff and got myself a glass of white wine. Rick sort of – apologized for your behavior, while waving it off at the same time? If that makes sense?"

Harley's mouth tightened and she gave a small nod. Pam said, "I got this feeling like he didn't really understand you. And I had no right to think that, no right to say it now –"

At that, Harley reached across the table and grabbed one of Pam's hands in her own. "Stop that. You have _every_ right." Then she seemed to realize where they were and reluctantly let Pam's hand go, slouching back in her chair.

Pam thought, _And then I told your dad I wasn't feeling well so I wouldn't have to sleep with him. I went to bed early that night, haunted by dreams of a beautiful blonde with familiar blue eyes._

"And then you wrote me a _War and Peace_ of a text message, and then we met for coffee right here," Harley prompted.

Pam narrowed her eyes at her for the _War and Peace_ comment, but she went on: "You don't know this, but I left that coffee date feeling happier, more comfortable than I had in a long time."

Then she paused. "Why are we doing this?"

"Doing what?" Harley asked innocently, taking another sip of her mocha-whatever.

"This. This weird intervention-slash-making-Pam-tell-all thing."

"Is it bothering you?" Harley said.

"Not really," Pam said. "But it's weird. And I don't know what it's accomplishing."

Harley leaned closer. Her sunglasses slipped down, so she pulled them off and put them on the table. She spoke with a quiet intensity. "Pam . . . you're such a mystery to me. I'm trying to understand you. And in order to do that, I have to get you to open up. So I opted for the direct approach."

"Ah," said Pam. "So you're trying to analyze me."

"Maybe," Harley said with a shrug. Then she waved her hand, the brat, as if to say _Please continue_.

Pam's mouth quirked, and she picked up the story again. "The next morning, when you texted me about going to the animal shelter, I felt – a little thrill. I didn't hesitate, knew right away the answer was yes."

Then she laughed to herself a little. "I was eager to see you again, so I stupidly only gave myself 30 minutes to get ready and be here waiting. I frantically looked through my wardrobe and finally decided on a more casual black dress – it seemed appropriate for an animal shelter."

Harley grinned. "Is that when I made the cotillion comment?"

"Yes," Pam said. "Thanks for that, by the way." Harley just winked at her in reply.

"And then," said Pam, "you know, at the animal shelter, you were so – _you._ Saying hi to everyone, they all knew and loved you, you rolled on the floor with the animals and – I couldn't take my eyes off you." She mumbled that last part, looking down at the table once more.

"Then Selina called, a welcome respite, and I went outside to take the call."

"Ohh!" Harley said. "So _that's_ who you were talking to, looking all happy like that!"

Pam looked at her. "Yes, talking to her always relaxes me. She was shocked when I told her I was at an animal shelter – she asked if I was lost, and I told her I was there with you." (Thinking back, Pam realized that Selina had made an annoying, know-it-all little "Hmmmmm" sound – had something in Pam's voice given it away, even before she was aware of it?)

"Can we be done now?" Pam asked. "I don't usually like talking about myself this much."

"Yeah, I worked that one out on my own," Harley said wryly. She reached for Pam's hand again, but this time she stopped herself before touching it. "You did well, though. I believe I have enough to complete my analysis."

"And do I get to hear this analysis?" Pam asked, smiling.

"All in due time, Dr. Isley. All in due time." Harley waggled her eyebrows at Pam, and for a minute the heaviness around her seemed to vanish.

Then she must have seen something over Pam's shoulder, because she jumped a little, then looked at Pam, then at whatever was back there. "I'm – I'm really sorry," Harley stammered, "but I have to go."

"Right now?" Pam said. "But I was just about to tell you my spirit animal!"

That got a smile, at least. "I really am sorry," Harley said. She stood up, then looked at Pam one last time. "By the way," she said, that mischievous look sneaking into her eyes, "next time you're saying yes to a coffee date, maybe don't use the poop emoji."

And then she was gone.

Pam sipped her tea.

"I thought it was chocolate pudding," she said out loud.

She looked around to make sure no one heard her.

She hoped she'd see Harley again soon.

(She wouldn't.)


	14. Chapter 14

**WARNINGS: Dubious consent, abuse (physical and emotional), drugs, even more swearing than usual.**  
 **Basically, imagine the Joker's rap sheet.**

 **Ugh, sorry about this one, guys. Just...trust me and hang in there for Chapter 15?**

In many ways, Harley's lack of impulse control, her ability to live in the moment, was an asset.

In the wake of her – whatever it was with Pam, it came pretty damn close to destroying her.

From the first time she saw Pam, she'd wanted her. Learning that she was married to Harley's _dad_ of all people did nothing to diminish that. And spending time with her, getting to know her, learning what made her throw her head back and laugh just made it a million times worse.

By the time Harley actually made a move on her (and okay, yeah, normally she had better game than caressing someone's hip with her thumb, but this was a unique situation), she was overwhelmed, _consumed_ with desire. She felt like some stupid bimbo in a novel with Fabio on the cover, going into heat whenever the object of her ardent fervor was near.

It was ridiculous.

But she was so swept up in it that she couldn't fight it, had to ride it out. And since no riding was going on with the redhead (har har), Harley needed another . . . outlet.

The first time she approached him was the night she touched Pam's hip on the couch. Her dad's couch. Actually, her mom's couch if she remembered right. She bolted when it felt like Pam was rejecting her, ended up at his alley, told him to buy her a drink.

And he did. He bought her many drinks.

And unfortunately, instead of _forgetting_ about her forbidden . . . whatever, Harley _obsessed_ over her. Out loud. And thoroughly.

She told him too much that night, the whiskey and the beer and her own torrential emotions and his probing questions all sharing in the blame.

Which meant that now he knew things. And that gave him something over her. Because it turned out that he was the kind of guy who liked to hold things over people.

Harley wasn't expecting an Eagle Scout when she approached him in the alley, but she couldn't ever have anticipated the kind of person he truly was.

That first night, he called her a cab and got her to tell the cabbie her address, sending her home without so much as a kiss.

It made Harley let her guard down more than she should have.

The second time she met up with him was after she and Pam had a fight that was so loaded with sexual tension, Harley thought she would explode.

She let him fuck her in the alley that night.

No explosions.

The third time, he came for her.

She and Pam were having a pretty intense conversation outside the coffee shop the very next morning. Harley felt hung over, ashamed, broken, but god so happy to see her and hear her voice. She managed to draw Pam out, to get her talking, letting Harley escape her spiral of self-destructive behavior for a little while.

She felt . . . safe.

But then she looked over Pam's shoulder and saw _him._ It made her jump, and the little bubble she and Pam shared was popped, just like that.

He was looking at Harley with this knowing smirk, this look that said _I know everything and I'll fucking tell her that you told me and then she'll hate you._

She knew he had her then.

Harley made one more little quip to Pam, looked at her longingly one last time – and disappeared with him into the shadows.

Everything pretty much went to shit after that.

He knew she'd do whatever he wanted, because he _owned_ her. He knew her deepest secret. He could blow her life wide open.

And because he put her in the cab that night, he knew her address.

He got her dealing pretty much right away. ("The fuck did you think I did in that alley?" he sneered at her the first time.)

She drove out of town where no one would recognize her, spent time on dark streets with desperate people.

She thought about using a thousand times, like he did, like most of his dealers did. But every time, a voice in her head said, "Harley . . . no."

Harley knew whose voice it was.

She stayed in his dingy apartment most nights, trying to keep him the hell away from Daffodil. They fucked when he felt like it. She was numb to it.

She lost her job at Caprese. Thank god classes were over, or she'd have lost her scholarships too.

Calls from her mom and dad went straight to voicemail. Eventually, they both gave up trying, must have figured she needed some time to herself.

But Pam texted her every single day, many times a day. Never stopped.

At first, it was friendly invitations to coffee. Then apologies when she thought Harley was avoiding her because she opened up so much the last time they met. Then panic when she thought something was wrong.

When Pam texted that she was calling the police, Harley made sure to be home when they got there. She put on a bright smile, cracked jokes about her overprotective stepmother, and the cops went away shaking their heads and laughing.

Sometimes Harley would see her distinctive red hair outside her apartment building, or the green Prius parked nearby.

She'd wait to feed Daffodil until Pam was gone.

It shouldn't have been so easy to avoid her, living in the same city. But it was.

After several weeks of this, Pam seemed to accept that she wouldn't get anything back. But she didn't give up. Her texts shifted, became updates, informational:

 _I went by the animal shelter today. Thomas is worried. I told him you're alive._

 _I tried one of your mochachinos (sp?) today. I was sick to my stomach all afternoon._

 _Your dad asked me to go away with him this weekend. A cabin in Vermont. I know you won't answer this, but . . . I wish I could talk to you about it. Ask you if you're okay with it, maybe. Sorry for the dissertation._

Every one brought a sad smile to Harley's face before she deleted it. She couldn't take the risk that he would see them.

He seemed to know every time Harley was even thinking about going back. He'd sneer something about telling daddy on her, or make some comment about how he ate cat in Southeast Asia, or just beckon her to come over so he could show her she was his.

One night, something snapped inside her. She talked back, for the first time ever. Said she wished he _would_ tell her dad, just so she could get back to living her fucking life.

And he hit her.

Full-on punched her in the cheekbone.

She didn't hear bones breaking, and vaguely wondered if the sound was just drowned out by his laughter.

That night, she snuck out. Couldn't go home, except to grab Daffodil and strap her carrier to the motorcycle. Home wasn't safe anymore.

Her dad and Pam were in Vermont, so there was only one place she could think of to go.

The Prius was in the driveway when she pulled up and unloaded Daffodil and her small duffel bag, so they must have taken Rick's truck. The house was completely dark.

Harley found the hidden key where Rick always kept it, in a key holder that looked like fake dog poop.

She unlocked the door, shut it, and let Daffodil out of her carrier. She scattered a few treats, which Daffodil instantly started gobbling up, and then Harley staggered to the couch in the dark and flopped down on it.

Two seconds later, she was blinded when the lights came on and the voice she heard every night in her dreams was screaming, "PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS IN THE AIR!"

 _Oh . . . shit._


	15. Chapter 15

"Pam . . . it's me," Harley said weakly, not getting up from the couch. She heard Pam gasp, and a second later she came into view, wielding a baseball bat, hair all messy and face flushed and god, she would always be the most beautiful thing in the entire world to Harley.

"I – oh my god – Harley," Pam choked out, and then she must have dropped the bat or something because suddenly she was kneeling on the floor and her arms were around Harley's shoulders and she was just sobbing, sobbing into her neck.

Harley was able to raise one arm and curve it around Pam's back in return. She realized with some surprise that she was crying, too – not sobbing, just tears silently flowing out like they'd been dammed up and finally sprung a leak.

She also realized that it was the first time they'd ever hugged. Harley was a hugger by nature, went with the territory, but so far she and Pam had only shared those occasional electric grazes that inevitably left them both feeling confused and wanting more.

This wasn't like that. This felt . . . right. Complete.

They just stayed there like that, Daffodil occasionally licking at their hands and faces, until Pam's sobs faded and Harley's tears dried up and Pam finally pulled back to look at her.

She gasped again when she got a good look at Harley's face. "That sexy, huh?" said Harley, trying to grin.

"Jesus Christ, Harley," Pam said. "What happened? Do we need to go to the hospital?" Crying had made her eyes an even brighter shade of green than usual, and Harley didn't answer her at first because she couldn't stop staring. Then the green darkened, the temperature seemed to drop about 10 degrees, and Harley felt a little shiver of fear as Pam said, with barely controlled rage: " _Who hit you, Harley?_ "

"Pam . . . it's not that bad, some frozen peas and I'll be fine," said Harley. Then, quietly, "I can't talk about it yet." She struggled to sit up, and Pam disentangled her arms from around Harley's shoulders but stayed kneeling on the floor.

They looked at each other for a long moment, their eyes saying everything they didn't have words for.

"Why are you here?" Harley said finally.

"Rick had a work trip come up, we rescheduled our trip to Vermont," said Pam. "Why are _you_ here?"

"Long story," mumbled Harley. She wouldn't say any more.

"I'll go change the sheets," Pam said, ever the perfect hostess. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

Harley didn't have the energy to argue, so she didn't.

Pam stood up and started down the hall. As she exited the living room, she turned and looked back at the broken woman on the couch, pictured her as she was when they first met.

"I missed you," she whispered, and then she was moving down the hall.

Harley felt those words wash over her. She felt lighter, warmer.

And she was pretty sure she was getting snot all over the couch. "Do you have a Kleenex?" she called out weakly.

"My purse, right there on the coffee table," she heard Pam call back.

The green purse was close enough that Harley could grab it from the couch. She opened it and smiled – of _course_ Pam's purse was neat, orderly, empty but for the essentials.

Harley spotted a mini pack of tissues and was about to grab it when something else caught her eye, carefully folded at the bottom of the purse. _Is that–?_

She picked it up.

It was the check from Caprese.

The one with Harley's number written on it.

She held it in a trembling hand. Pam came out of the bedroom and said, "The bed's all made. Do you want to sleep now, or talk, or –?"

"What. The fuck. Is this?" Harley said quietly, holding up the piece of paper.

When Pam saw it, she paled instantly. "I . . . can explain," she said.

"Why would you keep this?" said Harley. Pam hesitated.

Harley swallowed hard and went on, "You know what this meant, right? I was _hitting on you._ I wasn't giving you my number as a 'hey, let's be platonic friends' move. And _you kept it._ "

"Harley, I –" Pam started, but Harley held up a hand. "You kept my number," she whispered. "You – you put daffodils on the kitchen table the second time I came to dinner." Tears started coming out of her eyes once more and she wiped them away angrily, wincing when she touched her bruising cheek.

Harley looked up at Pam, blue eyes pleading, searching. "You're the only one – the ONLY one – who never gave up on me. My own fucking parents stopped calling. My coworkers never asked why I got fired. Just you. Only you, Pam."

Pam couldn't look away, or think of the right words to say.

"Please don't lie to me," Harley said, still in that quiet, broken voice. "You can't tell me anymore that this is just attraction between us, just something physical. It's been more than that for a long time." She crumpled the piece of paper and threw it on the coffee table.

"Are you mad?" Pam said quietly.

"No," said Harley, deflating. "I'm tired."

Pam sighed out the breath she'd been holding in, her shoulders sagging in relief. She held out a hand, helped the younger woman to her feet. She looked like she wanted to pull Harley into another hug, but Harley ducked her head and shuffled down the hall.

There was a Green Day t-shirt neatly folded on the bed. Harley smiled and changed into it, then got into bed.

Pam appeared at the door with an ice pack. She leaned in the doorway, not saying anything, her mouth twisting nervously.

"Stay with me?" Harley whispered, lifting up the covers.

Pam walked over, handed her the ice pack silently. Harley half-smiled and put it to her cheek, then rolled over to face the wall.

Pam hesitated for a second, then climbed into bed behind Harley, snuggled up against her, put an arm around her waist. They fit together perfectly, no surprise there. She breathed her in, whispered, "You smell like sunshine," pressed a single chaste kiss to the side of Harley's neck.

"Pam-a-lamb, I've had the shittiest month of my life," Harley said bitterly. "I seriously doubt I smell like anything as wholesome as sunshine."

"You can talk to me when you're ready," Pam said. "And for the record, you smell amazing to me."

Harley sighed. "We can talk in the morning," she said in a small voice. Pam nodded against her.

And only when she heard Harley's breathing deepen, felt her body relax into sleep, did she let herself close her eyes.

The next morning, Harley woke to the sound of Daffodil purring in her ear and the warm feeling of sunlight suffusing the room.

She gave Daffodil a squoosh, stretched, yawned – and then winced in pain as her bruised cheek groaned with the effort. Harley sat up and faced the window.

Pam must have been listening for her to stir, because Harley heard her pad up to the doorway and pause. Harley turned her head to look back at Pam with a small smile. The redhead held two steaming mugs, and she handed one to Harley.

"Turns out I don't have an espresso machine, so I couldn't make one of your fancy things," Pam said. "But I put hot chocolate in your coffee, and whipped cream on top."

"Thank you," Harley said sincerely. "That's the nicest thing anyone has done for me in . . . it's really nice of you." She huddled around her hot drink, cupping it in both hands despite the warmth in the room, looking out the window again.

Harley felt the bed dip slightly as Pam sat gingerly on the edge.

"Sleep okay?" Pam murmured. Harley nodded. It was the best night's sleep she'd had in ages. She could still feel the calming pressure of Pam's arms around her.

Harley sipped her coffee-chocolate-whipped-cream thing and smacked her lips. "It's good," she said.

Pam was just sitting there. Harley thought she was maybe holding her breath.

"Want me to tell you something about you?" Harley said quietly.

"If you want to," said Pam.

"Here's something I know about you," Harley said. "You like plants. You like Green Day. You always wear something green – yes, I've noticed," she said when she heard Pam's little intake of breath. "I always notice," Harley said more quietly.

Then she went on. "So, I'm thinking you like green. That's cool. I like green, too." She smiled to herself. "Of course, I also like blue, and purple, and silver –" here she turned to face Pam, really looked at her – "and right now, my favorite color is this coppery red color that just _glows_ in the sunlight, it's so blinding and I can't look away."

Pam took in a shuddering breath. They both felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, as the world narrowed to just the space between them.

Then Pam swallowed, and with what looked like considerable effort, stood up from the bed, still holding her mug of tea. "Would you like to go out?" she said in a lower voice than normal.

Harley looked at her, a small shiver of anticipation running down her spine at Pam's voice, her words.

"I mean . . . out of the house somewhere? The coffee shop?" Pam said, but when Harley paled and tensed up, she quickly adjusted. "Okay, not the coffee shop."

Then she brightened and said, "Do you want to see my favorite place?"

Harley nodded, the tiniest smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"I'll get you some clothes," Pam said. She gently took Harley's mug and headed for the kitchen.

Harley looked back out the window.

"Daffodil," she whispered, finding the cat's head and loving on it, "what are we going to do?"


	16. Chapter 16

Pam's favorite place was lovely, of course. It was a creek by a trail outside of town that Pam had somehow discovered. Sunlight filtered through the trees, birds were chirping – it was nothing short of idyllic.

The two women sat in the grass just beyond the bank of the creek. Harley wore a pair of Pam's capri pants that were more like ankle-length jeans on her and the same Green Day t-shirt from last night. (She didn't want to take it off. It was soft and smelled like Pam.) Pam wore jean shorts and a tank top. Her hair was pulled up in a green bandanna. It was the most casual Harley had ever seen her look. It was glorious.

Harley leaned her head on Pam's shoulder. "It's nice here," she said.

Pam put an arm around Harley's shoulders, nuzzled into her hair. "I thought you'd like it."

Harley cleared her throat. "And – not just the creek – _this_ is nice. All of it. You and me. It feels . . . easier than I'd expected, somehow."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," Pam said.

They sat in the easy silence that they so often found themselves in.

After a few minutes, Harley said, "So, why ivy?"

"Hmm?"

"Your tattoo."

"Ah," said Pam. "Well, first of all, it's beautiful – it's green, and you know I like green–" she nudged Harley a little, and Harley poked her gently in the side in return – "and it's sometimes used to represent femininity, but it also has this interesting dichotomy. On the one hand, it symbolizes immortality, but it's also poisonous."

"Hmm . . . toxic and immortal," Harley mused. "I can understand the appeal."

Pam paused for a minute, and then asked, almost shyly, "Do you want to see it?"

The younger woman nodded, trying not to look too eager. Pam leaned forward, turned to the side a little bit, and slowly, slowly pulled up her tank top, showing Harley the ivy vine that curled up out of her shorts and followed the curve of her hip until it vanished under her bra.

Harley shivered a little. Her fingers twitched and she half-reached out to touch it, to trace it – but she pulled back, and just said, "Um . . . it's nice."

They both blushed, and Pam lowered her shirt, returning to her spot at Harley's side.

Harley fished for a change of subject: "So why did your friend get a cat?"

"Oh, Selina?" Pam laughed. "I'd say . . . it was less about 'cute little furball' and more about 'dangerous predator' for her." She leaned back on her hands, loosened her bandanna and set it beside her, turned her face up to the sun so that her hair streamed down her back. "Selina always says that dogs are for the weak-minded."

"And what do you think?" Harley said, studiously _not_ looking at those gorgeous waves, that blissful upturned face, the tiny sprinkle of freckles that she knew would be right there if she just turned her head . . .

"Mmm, I have pretty specific tastes," Pam said, looking relaxed and completely at ease. She opened just one eye and tilted her head to look at Harley, who couldn't look away now. "I only like kittens who are named after plants."

It surprised Harley enough that she snorted out a little laugh. Then she slowly lay down on her back, hands crossed behind her head, looking at the sky. She felt rather than saw Pam lie down in the same position beside her.

"How old are you?" Harley said.

Now it was Pam's turn to snort. "A gentleman never asks, and a lady never tells," she replied, mock snootily.

"Good thing I'm not a gentleman, then," said Harley, with an echo of her old grin.

Pam smiled at that. After a beat, she said, "I'm 31."

Harley did some quick math in her head. She turned so she was facing Pam on her side, leaning her head on her hand. "Ha! Then that means–"

"Yes, I did the math too," said Pam, mirroring Harley's position again. "12 years between us – which is a long damn time, mind you – and 14 between me and Rick. It's a great cosmic joke, isn't it," she said without much humor.

"Doesn't feel like that big a gap," Harley said, reaching bravely for Pam's hand with her free one. She felt Pam's fingers twitch – in hesitation? anticipation? – but then their fingers intertwined, and Pam said quietly, looking down at their joined hands, "Harley."

"Relax, I'm not trying to seduce you," Harley said with a little smile. "You can look at me."

Slowly, Pam dragged her eyes up to meet Harley's. "It wouldn't take much," she murmured absently. Then she realized what she'd said, her eyes widened, and she looked mortified.

Harley giggled at her response.

"That's the first time you've giggled since . . . since you came back," Pam said. "God, I've missed that sound."

"Now who's being all seductive?" said Harley, letting go of her hand and playfully pushing Pam so she fell over on her back. Harley sat up and looked at the creek for a long moment.

"Selina says hi, by the way," said Pam from where she was lying behind her. "She was worried sick about you. Kept threatening to call Interpol, and when I snapped at her that that was stupid, she actually _hissed_ at me over the phone from Majorca or wherever she was at the time."

Harley chuckled silently. "She sounds awesome."

"Oh yeah, she's a real charmer," Pam said dryly.

Harley pulled up a blade of grass slowly, sliding it out of the earth. She dragged the sharp edge along her thumb. It didn't leave a mark.

"I can't go back to the apartment," she said.

"Okay," said Pam, sitting up beside her, looking at the sparkling water. Then, hesitantly, peeking at Harley sideways: "Do you want to stay at the house? Just for a while – I know that might be uncomfortable for you – but it would give you a place to stay while you look for a new place."

Harley bit the side of her mouth, thinking about it. "What would you do?" she said finally.

"Well," said Pam, "I'd probably make a pros and cons list."

"Hmm," Harley said. "You . . . are a huge nerd. Okay, pros: No rent. Safe."

"And you could sleep in the guest room," Pam said. "I have an air mattress, and we could clear the junk out of there."

"So we'll add a pro of 'own room,'" Harley said. "Let's do cons now. Have to ask my dad–"

"That won't be a problem," Pam interjected. "He'll say yes in a heartbeat, you know he will."

"Yeah," said Harley quietly. "That's because he doesn't know about the Big Con. Con Prime."

"The con-flict of interest," Pam said.

"Nice!" said Harley, smiling a little sadly. Then she turned to look at Pam directly. "So, what's the verdict?"

"It's your decision, Harley."

Harley was still holding the blade of grass. She drew it across her lip, slowly, feeling the pull of it.

"Do you mind calling him?" she said.

Pam already had her phone out. She got to her feet, brushed off the grass, walked a little way off and had a brief, hushed conversation.

Then she came back to Harley, smiling like a sunrise, and held out a hand to help her to her feet.

"Let's go home," she said.


	17. Chapter 17

Back at the house, Daffodil eeped her happy little greeting, and it made both women smile. Harley went to the kitchen to make coffee for her and tea for Pam, while Pam disappeared to the basement.

She reappeared a few minutes later with a neatly folded rubber air mattress, just as Harley was turning off the hot water pot and getting ready to pour it. "Banished to the guest room, huh?" Harley said, carefully pouring the water into Pam's mug.

It came out less joking, more raw than she intended, and Pam flinched a little. "Rick doesn't get back until tomorrow," Pam said quietly, setting the air mattress down on the floor. "I thought we should make up the guest room as if you'd been sleeping there – but we can share the bed again tonight, if you'd be okay with that."

Harley put the hot water pot down and rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "This must be so weird for you."

"No weirder than it is for you," Pam said gently.

"Can I be honest?" Harley said, shoving the mug over, not quite looking at Pam, turning to the coffee pot to pour herself a cup.

Pam just nodded. Harley saw it out of the corner of her eye. She blurted out, "The thing that's bugging me more than anything is – I hate the thought of you and my dad having sex right across the hall. It's just – it's just too much."

The other woman came around the counter to stand across from her. "Well," said Pam, clearing her throat, "that won't be a huge issue."

Harley looked up at her, unable to voice her next question, but Pam read it in her eyes and sighed. "We've had sex maybe once in the last month," she said. "Rick is away for work so much, and I've been so worried about – I've been so worried that I haven't felt like it, I always make excuses." She took a sip of her tea, then squeezed the tea bag out and threw it away.

"To be honest," Pam said quietly, "the 'wifely duties' part of our marriage has never been my favorite part, but my mother always taught me that it was a crucial component of a healthy marriage."

"What?" said Harley incredulously. "What part of that is healthy?"

Pam looked at her. "What do you mean?"

Harley met her gaze, unflinching. She set her coffee mug down on the counter, harder than she meant to. "You make it sound like something you're just . . . submitting to. Shouldn't there be passion? A spark? Something you _both_ want?"

Pam's jaw tightened. "Don't take the wrong way, Harley, but what would you know about it? You're 19," she said coldly.

"Okay, first of all, there's no _right_ way to take that," Harley said, getting mad now, unaware that she was inching closer to the redhead with every word. "And second of all, I know enough. I might not be married, but I know what it's like to feel that spark, to want to be around someone every second of the day, to fight the urge to rip their clothes off every time you see them."

She broke off, breathing hard. Realized that she'd slowly backed Pam up against the counter, that she'd probably said way too much.

Harley saw the color in Pam's cheeks, the way her nostrils flared as she tried to keep her own breathing under control. One hand gripped the counter behind her until her knuckles turned white, and the other held her mug of tea in front of her like a shield. Their eyes locked, and they stood there for a minute, equal parts angry and aroused, until Harley sighed and took a step back.

"Sorry about that," she said quietly. She shook her head a little, noting absently as it brushed her shoulders that she hadn't worn it in pigtails in a long time.

Then she looked back at Pam, who was still just – standing there. Harley spoke more evenly this time. "Can I ask – why do you think you feel that way about it?"

Pam took a deep breath. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

Harley nodded. She took Pam lightly by the hand and led her over to sit on the couch, where they both settled – Harley leaning back against one arm, her legs bent, and Pam in her usual pose with her legs folded under her and one arm on the back of the sofa.

"Well," Pam began, "I think there are two reasons. One, as you may have gathered, my mother instilled in me a very . . . particular idea of what it means to be a wife. Her experience with my father was what I've described to you – in order to keep him from straying, it's important to make sure you see to his needs, etc."

Harley giggled, and Pam looked at her curiously. "Sorry, sorry," Harley said, snorting on her coffee a little, "it's just that I've never heard a human being actually say the words _et cetera_ out loud before."

Pam's eyes crinkled at that. It was good to see the old Harley starting to come back.

"Okay, so a super old school philosophy," said Harley. "What's the second reason?"

The older woman took a sip of her tea, then leaned her head back on the couch, looking off into space. "In grad school," she began, "there was a professor. Professor Woodrue." Harley noticed a little shudder as Pam said the name.

"He taught several of the advanced botany courses, had tenure, was very intelligent and well-respected," Pam went on. "He . . . seduced me, I suppose. Approached me after class one day and we began an affair."

Harley inched a little closer to her on the couch in case Pam needed some comfort, but she didn't touch her.

"Jason made me believe that I was special, made promises about our future together." Pam laughed bitterly and shook her head, looking down at the floor now. "I was so stupid. I actually felt some version of what you described earlier – the passion, the all-consuming need to be with someone."

She glanced at Harley then. "Well, you can probably see where this is going. One day, he stopped returning my calls, started being cold and distant in class. He'd gotten what he wanted from me, and I was just his willing victim. I found out later that he always did this, had been seducing students for years – he was seeing at least two other girls at the same time as me.

"So, the conclusion I drew from all of this is that my mother was right. Women don't need passion – it leads to pain. We need stability, we need to find a husband and be a good wife and keep him."

"Your mother sounds like a stone cold bitch," Harley blurted out. Then she said "Sorry!" and wrinkled her nose so cutely that Pam burst out laughing.

They looked at each other. Harley stretched out her legs across Pam's lap, and Pam set her tea down on the coffee table. "I know I'm just 19," said Harley. Pam started to protest, but Harley cut her off. "No, it's okay, it's a mathematical fact. But despite being born pretty recently in galactic terms, I feel pretty confident in saying: you shouldn't have to choose. That's absurd. You can have passion _and_ , like, a real thing that lasts forever."

"Maybe some people can," Pam muttered a little despondently.

Then the doorbell rang, startling them both. Pam went to answer it while Harley huddled on the couch.

"Sign here for a flower delivery," said the teenager at the door.

When Pam came in with an enormous bouquet of some white flower Harley couldn't identify and some beautiful orangey-pink roses, Harley's jaw dropped. "Holy shit, are those from my dad?" she said. "That's . . . surprisingly romantic of him."

Pam set them down on the kitchen table and found the card. "They're for you," she said, her face unreadable.

Harley blanched, all the blood draining from her face. "Let me see the card," she said tightly.

Pam handed it over, not sure what this was about, and Harley opened it with shaking hands. She read it and sighed in relief. "They're from Selina," she said, handing the card to Pam.

"Selina? That's weird," Pam said. She read aloud: "Welcome home, Harley. Now Google this shit."

"What does that even mean?" Harley said, but Pam wasn't looking at her. She was looking at the flowers thoughtfully. Then she turned back to Harley and blushed, all the way to the tips of her ears.

"Um – I wouldn't want to deprive Selina of her fun," Pam said hastily. "You're on your own figuring this one out." Then she fled the room – there was no other word for it.

"Weirdo," Harley said affectionately.

She flopped back down on the couch. Daffodil jumped on her chest and curled up, purring.

And Harley dozed off, feeling safe, feeling whole.


	18. Chapter 18

When Harley woke up, it was mid-afternoon. She half sat up, blinking and looking around groggily for Pam, who was sitting in an armchair in the corner, reading.

Pam looked up from her book as Harley stirred. "Hey, sleepyhead," she said, smiling.

"Daaaamn," said Harley. "I conked _out_." Pam chuckled, low and sexy in her throat. _Behave, Harley_ , Harley told herself.

"How's your face?" Pam said. She'd thought about bringing it up a thousand times that day but wasn't sure how Harley would respond.

Harley sat up all the way and touched it gingerly. "Feels better today," she said. Then, a little hesitantly: "How does it look?"

"Like someone punched you in the face," Pam said. She kept her voice even, but Harley saw the way her jaw tensed up. Harley sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "Can I take a shower?" she said.

"Of course!" Pam said, jumping up, knocking her book to the floor. "I'm so sorry – I should have offered –"

"Relax, Martha Stewart," Harley said, grinning at the awkward display of hospitality. "If you recall, you thought I was trying to rob you. Do you offer showers to all the people who rob you?"

"I find that it helps dissuade them from stealing my valuables," said Pam. She was still amazed at how effectively joking around with Harley helped calm her more . . . obsessive tendencies. "I'll get you a towel." She walked down the hall, and Harley tried not to watch her walk away.

Harley's attention wandered to the beautiful bouquet on the table. She walked over and looked through the flowers until she found little sticks labeling them: Tuberose and Rose (Coral).

When Pam came back, holding a fluffy off-white towel, Harley quirked an eyebrow at her. (Not the one above her bad cheek.) "What is it?" said Pam, but from the way Harley was holding her phone and standing near the bouquet, she could pretty much guess.

"You 'Googled that shit,' as Selina so delicately put it, didn't you?" she muttered.

"Yes, I did," said Harley. "And what I learned was quite interesting." She walked over to Pam until they were standing inches apart. "Turns out that the white ones, tuberoses, mean 'forbidden love.'" She took one step even closer, until only the fluffy towel separated them. "And coral roses mean . . . desire." Harley leaned forward ever so slightly and nuzzled against Pam's collarbone. She heard Pam's sharp intake of breath and smiled to herself. "Yep . . . interesting," Harley mumbled against her skin.

Then she grabbed the towel, said brightly, "Thanks for the towel!" and skipped off down the hall to shower.

Pam stood there for a minute, stunned. Then she said to the flowers, "Goddammit, Selina," and stalked over to her chair, snatching her book off the ground as she went.

Maybe half an hour later, Harley came out, looking freshly scrubbed and wearing a clean set of her own clothes. Her hair was up in pigtails, and she was smiling a little shyly.

Pam had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

"Forgot I packed a bag when Daffodil and I went on the run," Harley said. "I put your clothes in the hamper."

"Thanks," said Pam.

"So . . ." Harley began, "does Selina mean what I think she means?"

Pam sighed and closed her book, putting it down on an end table. "Yeah," she said. "She's kind of – rooting for us, I guess."

"Are you serious?" exclaimed Harley. "That's – that's . . . I like her," she trailed off.

They half-smiled at each other across the living room. "So," said Pam, clearing her throat, "do you want to talk about what's been going on with you?"

"I have a better idea," Harley said after flinching the tiniest bit at the question. "Come over here." She held out a hand, and Pam rose from her chair as if she were compelled.

When she reached Harley and took her outstretched hand, Pam smiled. "What?" said Harley.

"You smell like me," Pam murmured. Harley blushed and said, "Here. Lie down on the couch."

"Harley," Pam whispered, and Harley giggled. "It's not what you think!" she said. "Trust me."

Pam shot her a look, but complied. Harley dragged over a chair and placed it at the end of the couch where Pam's head was, then sat down in it.

"Wait a second," Pam said. "Are you actually going to–"

"Dr. Isley, let's begin," Harley said. "How are you feeling this week?"

Pam flipped over on her stomach and peeked at Harley over the arm of the couch. "Are you kidding me right now?" she said.

"You asked a long time ago to hear my analysis of you," Harley said. "So let's do this while it's just the two of us." She made a little 'turn around' gesture with her finger, and Pam groaned and flopped onto her back.

"So, Pamela, what's on your mind?" Harley said.

"Well," Pam said, playing along for lack of a better idea, "my . . . friend is staying with me for a while."

"Mm," said Harley. "Tell me about this friend. How did the two of you meet?"

"We met at her work," Pam said.

"And –?" Harley prompted.

"And then we met again under odd circumstances, and I tried to feed her beef stroganoff, not knowing she was a vegetarian."

Then Pam realized something. This didn't have to be therapy for her – she could turn this into therapy for _Harley_. Maybe if she opened up, it would encourage Harley to open up about those missing weeks, enable her to start the healing process.

She smiled to herself and went on: "The day after the beef stroganoff debacle, I told my – my husband over breakfast that I wanted to make more of an effort to get to know this friend, and he agreed that it was a great idea."

Pam didn't mention to Harley that she'd asked Rick if he wanted to come have coffee that first time, all three of them, and he'd replied that he was too busy and kissed her on his way out the door.

"So I decided to text her, because that is apparently what people do nowadays." She heard Harley's stifled giggle at that – they both knew what was coming.

Pam cleared her throat. "I spent most of the day getting up the courage to text her – I didn't want it to come across as weird. What's safe? What do people do when they socialize? A coffee shop is normal, right?"

"Are you serious?" Harley said quietly. "I mean – hmm, very interesting, do go on."

"I – I drafted the text message on a legal pad first," Pam blurted out.

Harley actually _guffawed_ at that. Her therapist persona flew right out the window. Pam flipped over again to look at her over the arm of the couch. Harley laughed until she couldn't breathe and tears were coming out of her eyes.

"Are you quite finished?" Pam said archly – but inside, she was rejoicing at how Harley was letting loose.

"I'm sorry," Harley gasped out. "Apparently, your issues run much deeper than I realized. Please continue."

Pam flipped back onto her back. "Hmph. So anyway, I sent her this extremely well-crafted message. And–" here she got a little quieter, feeling a little shy – "I felt a jolt of happiness when she texted me back." Then she paused, remembering. "I did have to google what 'NP' meant, though."

"God, you're absurd," Harley said, probably still wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. Pam didn't bother turning around to check.

"If by 'absurd' you mean 'thorough,' then I accept your analysis," Pam said. "Anyway, the next morning I took extra care getting ready, which probably doesn't surprise you. I chose my off-white dress with the scoop neck and green trim, a dress I feel says 'I am a casual person who sometimes drinks coffee with other people.'" She heard Harley try and fail to stifle a snort at that.

"I made sure to arrive early," Pam continued, "a lesson from my mother–"

"Shocker," muttered Harley. Pam ignored her.

"–and sat outside with my tea, enjoying the feel of sunlight on my face, nervous and excited about seeing my friend again."

Pam swallowed. "Then I made eye contact with her just before she crossed the road, and my heart actually stuttered in my chest."

"Really?" Harley all but whispered.

"Yes," Pam continued as if it were no big deal. "I impulsively asked her if we could start over, and that seemed to work. I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation, and felt like we connected in a way that I usually find – difficult. And I was amused by this ridiculous espresso drink she ordered." _And thoroughly captivated by the way she licked whipped cream off her upper lip_ , Pam thought.

"So," she said, "are you going to present me with your analysis now?"

"I'm afraid our time is up for today, Dr. Isley," Harley said in a strangled voice. Pam tilted her head back on the arm of the couch, trying to read her expression.

And Harley leaned over and gently – so gently! – captured Pam's lips in an upside-down kiss.


	19. Chapter 19

In many ways, Harley's lack of impulse control, her ability to live in the moment, was an asset.

This had never been more true than the moment she leaned over the couch and _finally_ did what she'd been longing to do for months, pressing her lips gently to Pam's.

Their mock "therapy" session, the little moments Pam revealed, had unlocked the feelings Harley had been keeping bottled up for so long. She just _had_ to kiss her. There was no other option.

Harley moved her lips tentatively against the other woman's, savoring the feel of her, the smoothness. It was a strange angle, but god it felt amazing.

She continued her gentle exploration, kissing every inch of Pam's lips, marveling at how full and soft they were, wanting to remember this forever.

Operating purely on instinct, Harley gently sucked Pam's lower lip between hers. Pam reached up a hand, and Harley's heart stopped as she worried that Pam was going to push her away.

But instead, that hand found the back of Harley's neck and pulled her even closer as Pam mimicked Harley's action, lightly sucking on _her_ bottom lip.

Pam moaned, a deep and needy sound coming from the back of her throat, and it was the hottest fucking thing Harley had ever heard, made her embarrassingly wet instantly.

Harley pulled back a fraction of an inch, and she swore that Pam actually whimpered as she did so.

"Jesus Christ, Red," Harley whispered against her mouth.

"Red, huh . . . I like it," Pam said in that sultry voice of hers, smiling against Harley.

"That, um, that angle can't be good for your neck," Harley said, reluctantly straightening up (Pam's hand slid away from her neck) and then standing.

"You don't hear me complaining," said Pam, pulling herself to a sitting position on the couch. But she did rub the back of her neck, with a slightly sheepish grin at Harley.

Looking at her like that – red hair a tangled mess, lips already swollen from Harley's kisses, adorable little grin on her face, lust still sparking in her green eyes – almost made Harley come undone. She wanted to straddle Pam on the couch, mess that hair up even more, rock against her, take her apart with her fingers and tongue.

Harley bit her lower lip, tasted Pam there. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, crossed her arms, looked back down at the gorgeous woman on the couch who was giving every sign of being hers for the taking.

And Harley said, quietly, "My dad comes home tomorrow."

She saw guilt flash across Pam's face, followed quickly by confusion, then hurt. And then Pam laughed bitterly, said "Good thing you and I found out we don't have any chemistry together, then."

"Yeah, right," Harley said. "Wouldn't that be nice?" She leaned against the wall, completely unsure what to say next.

Pam drew herself up into a little ball on the couch. In the smallest voice Harley had ever heard her use, she said, "Why did you stop?"

Harley blew out a breath. "Because you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," she said, after a moment. Pam looked up at her, eyes shiny with tears. Harley couldn't look at her. She went on, "Because if I hadn't stopped right then, I'm not sure I would ever have been able to. Because–" and here she wrapped her arms around herself protectively – "as amazing as that felt, I know deep down that I can't have what I really want."

"Harley," Pam said.

Harley smiled sadly. "You know, you always say that when things get too real between us. Like saying my name in that sexy voice of yours is going to make the situation any better."

She dragged her eyes up to meet Pam's. "I should probably sleep in the guest room tonight," Harley said, sounding broken, feeling even worse than she sounded.

Pam nodded, looked away.

"Want me to order us a pizza for supper?" Harley said. "I'm starving."

"I'm not that hungry," Pam said, "but go for it."

When the pizza came (extra cheese), Harley had three pieces and Pam picked at one aimlessly. Harley went through the motions of choosing a mindless action movie on Netflix.

They settled on opposite ends of the couch, Daffodil purring in Harley's lap. Pam was still curled up into herself, and Harley kept shooting worried glances her way as the evening wore on.

About halfway through the movie, Pam suddenly said, "I get it."

Harley had been watching the movie, sort of, and she said, "Oh! The –? Well, you do have a PhD, and it's not exactly the toughest plot to follow, and oh I just got that you're not talking about the movie."

Pam uncurled herself and turned to face Harley. "Harley – oh wait, I'm not supposed to say your name in 'that sexy voice of mine,' am I? I'll try again: Hey you, over there!"

"You're not funny," Harley muttered.

"I'm pretty funny," Pam said. "But anyway, I've been sitting over here processing everything, and I'm fine now."

"You seem better," said Harley. "You're not curled up like a little . . . Pam-cupine anymore."

"Pam-cupine almost worked," Pam said.

"Thanks!" Harley grinned. "So, whatcha been thinking about?"

"Well," said Pam, "when you stopped earlier, I felt . . . rejected, I guess. Like everything between us had been leading up to that moment, and then when it finally came, you didn't want it as much as I did." She smiled. "But then I thought about all the sweet little things you've said to me, and you probably wanted it _at least_ as bad as I did."

"Fair," said Harley.

"And I see your point, and I get why you stopped, and it was the right thing to do," Pam said. "Mostly I'm sorry I had that reaction."

"Actually, I kind of like it when you have reactions," Harley said with a shrug. "Messy humans, remember? Although you did process your feelings like a cyborg just now, so be proud of that."

"Shut up!" Pam said, looking for something to throw at her.

"Anyway, it's water under the bridge, babe," Harley said. "I'm just happy my Pam-a-lamb is back." And she turned back to the movie, smiling.

Pam really did feel better, much better. But she hadn't told Harley everything – not quite.

She hadn't told her that what really helped her move on from those feelings of rejection was a renewed focus on how she could help Harley get her life back in order.

And she definitely hadn't told her how much that one kiss had affected her. Rocked her world, as Harley would probably say. Pam had never been that turned on in her life – she would have done anything in that moment, was seconds away from flipping Harley on top of her and never letting go. There was nothing 'dutiful' about it, just pure desire like those goddamn coral roses Selina had sent.

As if on cue, Pam's phone rang. It was Selina. "Go ahead and take it!" Harley said, pausing the movie (as if Pam would miss anything).

"Hi, Kitty," Pam said.

"Did Harley like her flowers?"

"Selina, I should kick your ass for that," said Pam. "What the hell?"

"My bad, Ivy, I looked in every Hallmark store in Spain and they didn't have any 'Sorry You Want to Bang Your Stepmom' cards, so I had to come up with a plan B," Selina snarked back.

Harley burst out laughing.

"Oh my god, is she sitting right there?" Selina said, actually sounding embarrassed.

"Yes," Pam said, gritting her teeth.

"Put her on!" said Selina. Pam looked at Harley like 'Is that okay?' and Harley just held out her hand for the phone. "Hi, Selina," she said.

"Why, Harleen Quinzel, I do declare!" said Selina in an overexaggeration of Pam's slight Southern accent. Pam rolled her eyes, overhearing. "I have heard so much about you! And how are you and my dear Ivy on this fine evening?"

Harley giggled. "Just peachy, darlin'," she said. "How's Majorca?"

"I'm in Barcelona now, dear, do try to keep up," said Selina. Then she got quiet and dropped the affected accent. "So, what's the deal with you and Pam? For real? Because if you're just fucking with her, I swear to God–"

"Selina!" said Pam, grabbing the phone away from Harley. "I should have known I couldn't trust you to behave yourself."

"Yeah, you should have," Selina said. "She sounds just adorable, by the way. You guys doing okay?"

Pam looked at Harley, a little shyly. "Yeah, I think we're okay," she said.

"Good. Then adios!" And Selina hung up.

After the movie was over, Pam yawned, stood up, and said, "Well, I think I'm going to get ready for bed. I didn't nap all afternoon like _some_ people."

"Good night," said Harley. "And – thanks. For everything."

"Sweet dreams," Pam murmured, bending down to kiss Harley on the forehead.

 _I know what I'll be dreaming about tonight_ , thought Harley.

 _I know what I'll be dreaming about tonight_ , thought Pam.

And they did.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Weird schedule this week, not sure when/how often I'll be able to post, so today is a two-fer.**

 **If you've made it this far (20 chapters!), I'd love to hear what you think - feel free to hit me up with a review.**

Harley must have crashed on the couch – again – because the next thing she knew, morning light was streaming in through the living room window and her dad came bounding through the door. "Pumpkin!" he bellowed, setting his suitcase down and reaching over the couch to ruffle her hair. "I'm so happy you're here! We've missed you."

Pam came out of the bedroom in her silk pajamas, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Hey, honey!" Rick said, rushing over to hug Pam and planting a kiss on her. She blushed. "Did Harley convince you she'd rather sleep on the couch than in the guest room?"

"I just fell asleep out here," Harley said. "Slept great." She snuck a glance at Pam and saw her face flush again.

"Who wants breakfast?" Pam said, clapping her hands in that "I'm a perfect hostess and I'm nervous" way she had.

"I'm starved," said Rick. "Taking the red-eye about did me in."

"Can I help?" Harley said, starting to get off the couch, but Pam waved her off. "No, sit and catch up with your dad," she said, heading into the kitchen without looking back.

Rick plopped down on the couch next to Harley and patted her knee. Harley noticed that his eyes were bloodshot, his knuckles were scraped, and he smelled a little of alcohol. Pretty standard dad stuff.

"So, where you been, kiddo?" he said. "That one –" he jerked a thumb toward Pam in the kitchen – "was worried sick about you for some reason, but your mom and I both figured you'd be fine." Then he saw the bruise on her face for the first time. "Jesus!" he yelled. "What the hell happened to you?"

Harley sighed. She'd decided to tell her dad some version of the truth. "Pop," she said, "I got into some trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" he said, taking her hand. She saw Pam freeze in the kitchen out of the corner of her eye. This was more than she'd heard about the last few weeks.

"It's really stupid," Harley said. She was tearing up now, which probably shouldn't have surprised her. "I fell in with a bad crowd, and I did some bad things, and I ended up losing my job and I don't feel safe in my apartment anymore and I'm so sorry!" She fell onto his shoulder, sobbing, and Rick wrapped his arms around her.

"Oh, Pumpkin," he said. "We'll get it all sorted out. One thing at a time, okay?" Harley nodded against his shirt, still crying. He held her until she sat up and pulled away.

"Well," said Rick, "I should probably go shower – and change my shirt." Harley looked at the spot she'd left with her tears and laughed. "Sorry, Pop," she said.

He ruffled her hair again as he stood up from the couch. "It's going to be okay," he said, and went to take a shower.

Harley stood up and made her way to the kitchen, arms crossed around herself, sniffling a little. She waited to talk until she heard the shower start running. Pam was everywhere at once, mixing pancake batter, scrambling eggs, frying bacon.

"Hey," said Harley.

"Hm?" Pam said absently.

"Hey," said Harley again. She put a hand on Pam's arm, carefully, and Pam turned to face her. "I get that it's weird, seeing how he still treats me like a little girl," Harley said. "What you just saw – that's what he's always done. He rides in on his white horse, gets to be the hero – and he's _really_ good at it, don't get me wrong – but the day to day stuff, he was always pretty worthless at." She paused, trying to read Pam's expression. "It was easier for me to blurt out all that crap to him because the stakes just aren't as high as they are with you and me. Does that make sense?"

Pam thought about it, then nodded.

"I really want to kiss you right now," Harley whispered, lingering for just a moment before pulling away and going back to the couch.

"Jesus, Hhh –" Pam started, but then caught herself.

"Oh, so I'm back to being Hhh now, am I?" Harley grinned from the couch. Pam rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a little smile as she finished making breakfast.

A few minutes later, Rick came out in fresh clothes, his hair wet. "I thought about it in the shower," he said, "and the first thing we're going to do is wrap things up at your apartment. I'll head over there later this morning."

"Thanks, Pop," said Harley.

"What's your landlord's name?" Rick asked.

"Oswald Cobblepot," Harley said, and Rick looked startled, then said, "That cannot be his real name." Harley shrugged. "Says it right on his business cards. I've seen 'em."

Then she turned to Pam. "So what's going to happen next is, Pop will go see Mr. Cobblepot, and he'll waltz back in here after he's gotten my full security deposit back _and_ convinced him to let me out of my lease."

Rick spread his hands. "What can I say? I have a way with words."

Harley took a bite of eggs and moaned. "Breakfast is really good, Pam, thanks," she said. Pam smiled. "It was nothing."

After breakfast, Harley insisted on doing cleanup duty, and Pam and Rick went into their bedroom. When they came out, Pam had changed out of her pajamas and Rick was grinning like he had a plan.

"You have a plan, don't you, Pop?" Harley said.

"Yes, I do, Pumpkin," he said. "Pam and I talked, and we're going to split up who does what. I'll take care of the apartment, and Pam's going to help with your job and some other stuff."

"You guys really don't have to do all that," Harley mumbled. "Just letting me stay here is enough."

Rick put an arm around Pam's shoulders and said, "We want to. It was mostly her idea." Pam blushed. She did that a lot, Harley had noticed.

Rick looked at his watch. "Aw crap, I have to get some work done this morning before I go talk to that Cobblepot guy," he said. "You ladies have fun." He kissed Pam, Harley ducked what would have been her third hair-ruffle of the morning, and Rick was gone.

She and Pam looked at each other, both feeling awkward. "You're quiet today," Harley said.

"I'm so far out of my comfort zone here, it's ridiculous," said Pam, the words coming out in a rush.

Harley looked at her thoughtfully. "Hard to do that perfect wife thing with me here, isn't it?"

Pam bit her lower lip. "You have no idea."

"Actually," said Harley, stepping into Pam's space, "I know _exactly_ how hard it is." She reached out, resting her hands lightly on Pam's hips. She heard Pam hold her breath.

"You're wearing your casual animal-shelter dress," Harley murmured, slowly looking up until their eyes met. She was stunned to see the naked desire in Pam's eyes behind that tightly controlled exterior.

"Yes," Pam managed to choke out, "I thought it would be good if we got out of the house. And . . . I thought it would do you good to visit the shelter."

Harley reached up and plucked a hair off Pam's dress. "Daffodil hair," she said, holding it up, leaning in close. "Blow it and make a wish."

"I think that's eyelashes," Pam squeaked.

Harley raised an eyebrow at her, amused. "And you are right, as usual." She heaved a big sigh and stepped back, and the air rushed back into Pam's lungs. Harley added, "You're right about getting out of the house. Not about Daffodil's fur. It absolutely grants wishes."

Harley blew the hair off her fingertip, maintaining eye contact with Pam the whole time. She winked, and just imagining what she wished for had Pam's face heating up again.

"So, leave for the animal shelter in half an hour?" Harley said, brushing past Pam and heading towards the bathroom.

"Sure," said Pam. She gripped the countertop and hissed "Geez, Isley, get control of yourself!"

From the bathroom, Harley heard her.

And she grinned.


	21. Chapter 21

Over the next week or so, Harley realized that Pam (and Rick, when he was around) was gradually and systematically reintroducing her to all the parts of her life that had gotten off track.

It was incredibly sweet.

She also realized that being with Pam every day, but not being able to _be_ _with_ her, was gradually and systematically driving her crazy.

It was incredibly frustrating.

That first day after Rick came home from his trip, Pam drove her to the animal shelter. Thomas was ecstatic to see Harley, pulled her into a huge bear hug like he'd never let her go. In the kitten room, Pam just leaned against the wall, watching Harley with a smile on her face, until Harley beckoned her to get down on the floor too – and she actually did! (Harley had no idea a black dress could get _that_ much cat fur on it.)

She had to restrain herself from getting 6 or 7 little brothers and sisters for Daffodil. Her dad was pretty cool about the one cat, but she sensed that it needed to stay that way.

On the way out, Thomas called Harley over. "So, I hear we're going to be seeing a lot more of you," he said with a grin. When Harley looked at him blankly, he said, "Pam just signed the two of you up for a weekly volunteer shift starting in the fall. She didn't tell you?"

"The – the two of us?" Harley said. Thomas nodded. "That's great," Harley said with a smile. And she went out to join Pam in the car.

When Rick got home that evening, he called to Harley that he needed a hand with something in the truck. She went outside and saw a bed frame in the truck bed. "Pop, you didn't have to do this," she said.

He waved it off. "Guy owed me a favor" was all he said.

They set the bed up in the guest room – Pam had already cleared plenty of space for Harley's few belongings, which Rick had picked up when he went to talk to her landlord. And of course, as predicted, he'd somehow talked Mr. Cobblepot into giving back the entire security deposit and releasing Harley from the rest of her lease.

The next day, after Rick headed off to work, Pam dropped another surprise on Harley. "We're going to go get your job back," she said.

Harley borrowed a white button-up from Pam – it was a little big on her, but when she tucked it in it was okay – and wore a black skirt. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail instead of her trademark pigtails. And she borrowed a little of Pam's lipstick – she didn't think she'd mind.

When she came out of the bathroom, Pam had a coughing fit and had to get a drink of water before they could leave.

Pam wore her green halter dress, in case she needed to provide backup with the restaurant manager. (And also, it was Harley's favorite.)

At the restaurant, Harley accepted hugs from Bud and Zatanna, told them she'd fill them in later, and then knocked nervously on the manager's door.

Carmine Falcone was a tough man – rumors abounded that he was "connected" – but he was fair, he'd always had a soft spot for Harley, and he understood the value of second chances. He and Harley worked out a starting date, and as they shook hands, he said, "If you ever need anything – _anything_ – you let me know, kid, understand?" Harley nodded and thanked him.

Pam was waiting in the car. She could tell just from Harley's face that it went well. "Congratulations!" she said as Harley hopped in.

"Thanks," Harley said, almost shyly. "I figured that if talking to Falcone didn't work, I could just send you in to do your pheromone thing or whatever it is that leaves me a drooling idiot around you."

"I think for you, it's the hair," said Pam absently, as she pulled onto the road.

When they pulled into the driveway of the house, Pam cut the engine. Harley put a hand on her arm before she could get out. "Hey," she said. Pam turned to look at her, biting her lip a little nervously.

"You've been an amazing . . . friend this week," Harley said sincerely. "But I think it's time for me to move out."

"Of – of course," said Pam. "I mean, that was always the plan eventually, so."

"I have to be honest with you," Harley said, swallowing hard. "I can't stop thinking about that kiss."

Pam looked down at the steering wheel, drummed her fingers on it. Stayed silent. The air in the car felt electric, like one spark would blow the whole thing.

"I dreamed about you all night that night," Harley said, her voice thick with emotion.

"Me too," Pam whispered.

Harley went on, "And it's making it really hard to hold myself back. Remember how I was all flirty that first morning? That's how I feel around you _all the time_. I only restrain myself for Daffodil's sake – I feel like it would confuse her."

Pam chuckled.

Harley said, more seriously, "The last time something like this happened, where I felt this super strong attraction to you but couldn't be with you, I went down a dark path." When Pam's head snapped around to look at her, she quickly said, "Oh, no – I'm not blaming you, no no no. Just – I went looking elsewhere for something that I only wanted to get from you. If that makes sense."

"It does," said Pam. "I think." She took a deep breath and said, "Then I think there are only two things left for us to do to get you ready." Harley cocked her head and waited. Pam said, "We need to find you an apartment – and I want to help you feel safe at 'our' coffee shop again."

Harley paled at the second item, just like Pam knew she would. Pam said quietly, "That needs to happen. You can't be scared of your own shadow forever. I . . . need to know what it will take for you to feel safe there again."

"Okay," Harley said after a pause. "We can tackle that after the apartment." She realized she was still holding Pam's arm and let it go, awkwardly.

As they got out of the car, Harley looked across the roof at Pam and said, "By the way – it's much more than just the hair for me."

God, she loved making that woman blush.


	22. Chapter 22

"This is the one," Harley said, twirling around with her arms out. Pam smiled, just watching her.

It was the fifth apartment they'd looked at that day, and Harley had found something wrong with each of the first four – but the second she saw this one, she knew.

It had hardwood floors, they allowed pets, and there was a nice big window on the southern side where Harley thought she just might put a nice plant or two.

"First month's rent, last month's rent," said the super. "Fill out this form." He shuffled out and shut the door behind him.

"I think I'm in love with him," Harley whispered, fake swooning. "Like, the _only_ problem is that we'd constantly be competing for 'Most Charming.'" Pam covered her laugh with her hand in case he was lurking outside the door.

"So, what do you think?" Harley said, walking over to the window. Pam looked at how the evening light played over her blonde hair, how a few strands had worked their way loose like always.

"Beautiful," she said quietly.

"I got that subtext, Red," Harley said, turning around and leaning against the window frame, fixing Pam with a _look_.

Pam walked over to her, slowly. They faced each other in front of the window, and Pam tucked one of those errant strands behind Harley's ear, let her hand linger there. She could barely hold herself back under the best of circumstances, and alone in an empty apartment, with the sunset outside the window . . .

"Is it when I call you Red?" Harley was whispering. "Is that what does it?"

"That doesn't hurt," Pam said, now cupping Harley's jaw, "but it's so much more than that."

She stroked Harley's cheek gently with her thumb, noting that the bruising had finally faded. She remembered rubbing a little bit of mud off that same spot the first time they'd visited the animal shelter.

Harley leaned into her touch, and her eyes fluttered closed.

"God, you're beautiful," Pam murmured. She leaned down, just a tiny bit, brushing their noses together, smiling when she heard Harley's little gasp of surprise.

And then Pam just went for it, followed her impulse, something she'd only done a handful of times in her life. She pushed forward, dying to close the distance and capture Harley's sweet lips –

And Harley took a step back.

Pam was stunned for a moment, completely confused, more so when she saw that Harley's blue eyes were flashing with – was that _anger_?

"Goddammit, Pam," Harley said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Goddammit. We can't DO this anymore!"

"I – I'm so sorry," Pam said. "I must have read the moment wrong–"

"You didn't read the fucking moment wrong!" Harley exploded. "You could kiss me in _any_ moment, anywhere, and I would be yours!"

"Then why–" Pam began, but Harley cut her off again. "Okay – you want to hear this? I'll lay it all out there for you." She started pacing back and forth, still hugging her arms tight around her chest. Pam leaned against the wall, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Here's what I think," Harley began. "You, Pamela Isley, follow the rules, live your life by the scientific method. Historically, your work has _been_ your life. But you're 31 years old now, and at some point in the last year or so you started to think there was something wrong with you, something missing, that you'd never find this thing that all these people who are less intelligent, less beautiful, less amazing than you seem to find so effortlessly."

Pam just watched her, soaking up every word.

"So," Harley said, swinging around to face her now, "when you met my dad, you did something brave. You took a leap. For once in your life, you said 'yes' to a long shot, let yourself be swept off your feet."

Then she paused, and when she looked up at Pam, her eyes were plaintive and there was an almost pained look on her face. Harley said, more quietly, "But I think that was maybe your lifetime quota of big risks. Because now let's talk about me.

"I'm impulsive, reckless to a fault. I have a million friends and absolutely no one I can turn to when I need someone. Until I met you. You _get_ me – couldn't be more different from me, but you get me in a way no one ever has, you give me the space to be myself and don't try to change me at all."

She spun away again, leaning her head against the wall so that it was hard for Pam to make out her next words: "But it's not enough anymore. I just – I can't be around you. All it does is cut me up, carve a hole in me, and I need that hole to be filled. That's not a sex joke, by the way. And you can't be the one to do that. So –" and here, Harley choked up, and Pam instinctively moved closer, wanting to hold her, to help her – "so when I disappeared last month, what you don't know is that I was fucking this guy, this horrible guy, this person I didn't love but who gave me something that I needed. Something I couldn't get from the person I wanted it from. He saw the darkness inside me and he _liked_ it."

Harley turned to face Pam again, but she couldn't meet her eyes. "But it all went wrong. So horribly wrong. I lost myself completely."

She finally dragged her eyes up to look at Pam, chewing on her bottom lip, looking as broken as the day she showed up with that black eye. "I can't let that happen again."

They stared at each other, sadly, hollowed out.

"Fuck, I don't know what I'm trying to say here," Harley said. "I'm not saying 'leave my dad.' I'm not saying 'it's him or me,' or 'this is killing me,' or 'fuck it, I love you' – but also, I'm saying all of those things."

Pam swallowed hard. She reached out for Harley, who gave a tiny shake of her head and pulled away again.

Harley's response, her outburst, her honesty – it was all too much for Pam to process, so she focused on the one thread that she could maybe pull. "Tell me about the man that did this to you," she said darkly.

"Why?" Harley said. She looked completely befuddled that Pam would pick that of all things to ask about.

"Because," said Pam, her green eyes flashing, "I'm going to kill him."


	23. Chapter 23

Harley laughed, unbelieving. "Kill him?" Then she saw the look on Pam's face and paled. "Pam," she said. "You're serious."

"I could synthesize an untraceable poison," Pam said, the wheels in her head turning, her voice cold and robotic. "I have access to the university's facilities now. I have an office, access to the lab. I can come up with a plausible reason for requesting all the materials I would need."

"Pam!" Harley said. She crossed the short distance between them and grabbed Pam by her upper arms. "I want you to drop this." Pam's face relaxed the tiniest bit, and she looked at Harley. "Promise me," Harley said, shaking her a little. "Promise me you won't try to kill him, and I'll tell you about him, and we can go to the police or whatever you want." There were tears in her eyes now. "Pam . . . please."

Pam took a step back and shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "I can't promise that right now, Harley," she said hoarsely. "But I'll think about it."

"I'm – I'm going to fill out this application now," Harley said, cautiously changing the subject. "You should probably get home. Tell Pop I found a place, okay? I'll get a ride out to the house to pick up my bike." Pam looked at her, only dimly aware. She nodded, started to reach a hand out to touch Harley – and let it fall back to her side.

Harley watched her walk stiffly to the door of the apartment. Pam hesitated right as she touched the doorknob, as if she were going to look back one last time, but then she straightened her shoulders and opened the door.

"Pam – I don't want you to go right now – but I think it's what you need," Harley said quietly.

A single nod was Pam's only response. And then she was gone.

Harley chewed at her lip for a minute, thinking hard. She looked out the window, but now the sun was at just the right angle to blind her, and she looked away again.

Then she pulled out her phone and made a call.

"Thomas?" she said when she heard his booming voice on the other end. "It's Harley. I found a place." She grinned at his enthusiastic response. "Thanks," she said. "Hey – random question – would you be able to pick me up here and drop me at my dad's house? 20 minutes? You're the best, T-Bone, see you then!"

She sighed, jiggled the phone in her hand for a second, and then made another call.

"Hey, Pop, it's me," she said. "When you get this, can you call me back? I was wondering if I can borrow the truck tonight to move my stuff into the new place I found. Pretty sure the super will let me move in tonight. Okay . . . thanks."

Harley ended the call and leaned against the window frame for a minute, closed her eyes, whispered "Pam." Then she went down to wait for Thomas.

Rick came through in the clutch, like he always did. Not only did he help Harley load her stuff into the truck (Pam stayed in their closed bedroom the whole time, claiming a "headache"), but he also drove her back to the new apartment. Over her protests, he insisted on helping her unload everything, get the place set up how she wanted it.

It was dark by the time they finished. Rick gave her a big hug before he left and said, "I'm proud of you, Pumpkin," which of course made Harley feel like a piece of shit.

She brushed her teeth, made the bed, and curled up in it, a little ball under the covers. Daffodil jumped up, purring and nuzzling her, before settling down into an even tinier ball.

Harley thought about texting Pam. Thought about driving over there, knocking on their bedroom window, calling her out into the moonlit night – "But then what?" she sighed out loud.

Daffodil didn't answer. And eventually, Harley fell asleep.

The next day, Harley was working her first lunch shift, so it worked out great that she was living back in town. The shower worked fine, she found a work outfit that was clean, and with a pat on the head to Daffodil, she headed out.

She chose a route that didn't take her past any dark alleys.

She still jumped at every sudden noise.

When she made it inside the restaurant, though, everything felt so familiar and safe that Harley was quickly able to relax. Zatanna nodded at her and informed her that she didn't look like shit anymore, and when Bud got there for the afternoon shift, he gave her a huge hug and asked if there was anything he could do.

It felt good to get back in the routine of greeting people, making them smile, keeping them happy. It gave Harley a sense of purpose that she hadn't had in a while, and she felt a surge of gratitude toward Falcone for giving her another chance.

And yeah, every time she went near Table 5 she felt a jolt of déjà vu, but she'd been expecting that.

Zatanna was working the lunch shift too, and right as the two of them were walking out the skies opened up and one of those crazy summer rainstorms hit.

"Did you walk today?" said Zatanna, and when Harley nodded, she said, "Come on, I'll give you a ride home." They dashed to where her car was parked, laughing, shaking the water out of their hair like dogs when they got inside (Zatanna said not to worry about it, it was her dad's car, and Harley made a mental note that maybe she wasn't the only Caprese employee with daddy issues).

When they pulled up, Zatanna invited her out for drinks sometime soon, and Harley grinned and said she'd be up for that. She dashed to the front door and up the stairs.

Daffodil sniffed her when she came in, offended at her appearance, and Harley laughed at her snooty little face.

Harley took a quick shower and changed into her pajamas.

And okay, her "pajamas" were Pam's Green Day shirt, which somehow found its way into her duffel bag. But it was just . . . really comfortable, and it made her feel like she was wrapped up in Pam.

"Don't judge me," Harley said, pointing a finger at Daffodil.

She sat in a chair by the window, looking at the rainstorm. It was still going strong. Harley felt warm, and safe, and independent for the first time in months.

But god, she missed her.

Harley was an easy dozer, and she nodded off in the chair, only to be awoken a while later when her phone buzzed. She grabbed it eagerly, hoping it was a text from Pam.

It was.

All it said was _I'm here._

Harley's heart fluttered. She looked out her window, where the rain was still coming down. She didn't see Pam outside.

She walked over to her door and looked out the peephole, then opened it.

Pam stood there, drenched from the rainstorm. Her tan dress was soaked. Her hair hung all around her face, dripping water on the cheap carpet in the hall. Her mascara was running – from the rain or from tears, Harley couldn't tell.

"I've been thinking," Pam said quietly.

Harley stood back, opened the door wider. "C-come on in."


	24. The Seduction

"How did you get up here?" Harley asked, curious. She was a little way inside the apartment, and Pam was leaning against the closed door.

Pam shrugged. She was so soaked, it was ridiculous. There was a little puddle at her feet, and Daffodil gave her a wide berth. "I knocked and one of your neighbors let me in," she said.

"Real crack security system we got here," Harley muttered without any real force. Then, as if Pam's state were registering for the first time, she said, "I'm so sorry! You were out in the rain! Do you want me to grab you a towel, some clean clothes?"

Pam shook her head. "I'm – I have something to say first, if that's all right." Harley just smiled at her, like _Of course it's all right, you weirdo you._

"Want me to tell you something about you?" Pam said quietly, and Harley looked at her, surprised to hear her own words like that.

"If you want to," Harley said.

"Okay," said Pam. She sighed. Gathered her courage. Looked at the floor.

And blew Harley's mind when she started with: "You love me.

"You said you loved me, the last time we were standing in this apartment. And Harley – everyone who's ever said that wanted something from me. But you? You said it when you were pushing me away."

Harley just stared at her, speechless, motionless.

Pam bit her lip and said, "I haven't left your dad – yet. But – I'll talk to him tomorrow."

Harley couldn't breathe. Literally, could not draw breath.

"I don't know if I'll tell him about us," Pam went on, now looking up to meet Harley's eyes with some effort, "but it's time to admit that I'm not the perfect wife I was raised to be."

 _Wow,_ Harley thought. _That's huge for her._ She grinned her Harley grin, found her voice again, and couldn't stop herself from saying, "Um, I'm pretty sure that ship sailed when you kissed your husband's daughter on the couch."

Pam's mouth twisted a little, in pain or in amusement, Harley couldn't tell. So she said, gently, "What I mean is, Pam-a-lamb – I don't _need_ you to be perfect. I just need you to be _you_." 

That got a shuddering little laugh from her.

And then – something in Pam's gaze shifted. She straightened up from where she was leaning slightly against the door. She went from looking like a vulnerable drowned rat (a sexy as hell drowned rat, if that was a thing, Harley thought) to, all of a sudden, an apex predator. And she looked _hungry_.

"Harley," Pam said, her eyes burning into Harley's, her voice as husky and sexy as Harley had ever heard it, "I'm going to tell you how I really feel now."

Harley gulped.

"I realized I was attracted to you that first day at the restaurant," Pam said, still in that husky voice, still trapping Harley with the force of her gaze. "That's why I kept your number. Even after I knew who you were – some part of me always wished we could go back to that first flirty conversation, that things could have been that way for us."

She took a little step closer. "And then, when we met for coffee the first time and you got that ridiculous drink, you got whipped cream on your upper lip, and your little pink tongue flicked out just for an instant. I knew then that I wanted that little pink tongue flicking against me–" here, Harley breathed out, "Jesus, Red" – "and I had to clear my throat just to get control over myself."

Pam took another step closer. "So the attraction was instantaneous. And I pushed it away because of the situation – I knew it was wrong, so I fell back on the way I was raised.

"But–" another step – "you're just so goddamn amazing that my attraction turned into something _more_ in no time at all."

"When?" Harley squeaked.

Pam smiled, equal parts feral and reflective. It was a good look on her, intellectual and oh so arousing. "At the animal shelter, if you can believe that. The very next day." She sighed. "Everyone there loved you – the people, the animals – you were so carefree, so entirely in the moment. I'd never seen anyone like you. I felt this surge of affection and told myself it was jealousy or something. Because I was an idiot."

She stepped closer again. "I loved your enthusiasm, the way you casually took my hand and dragged me around. I'm not much of a toucher, but I never wanted you to let go. And then–" here she grinned a little sheepishly – "I saw you kiss that round-headed little cat over there, the orange one with green eyes – real subtle, by the way, Harley – and it made me feel this . . . tenderness I didn't know I had in me."

Pam was so close now that Harley could swear she felt steam coming off her. "The heat was still there, too. I helped you up once and you lingered for a second. It made me feel hot all over, and I had to clear my throat like always.

"And that moment when I wiped mud from your cheek, and we were so close. I think that was the first time I could smell you, beneath the puppy and kitten smells. The first time I knew you smelled like sunshine. I almost pulled you closer then, just had to taste your lips, but Thomas interrupted us."

"Goddamn Thomas," Harley said.

"And then," Pam went on, her nostrils flaring, her eyes blazing, "you were just – everything. I got wet every time you flipped your fucking hair, took a bite of lasagna, didn't matter – I turned into this animal around you, and it took all of my energy to control myself."

"Shit, Pam," Harley breathed. "More."

Pam swallowed, hard. Reached out and rested her hand on Harley's hip, so lightly, but god it burned them both. She rubbed little gentle circles and said, with some effort, "Then suddenly, one night, we were alone. On the couch. And our knees were touching, and then your hand was on my hip, and then you were gently rubbing my bare skin and fuck nothing had ever felt so _good_ , not in my whole life."

Her fingers flexed, digging into Harley's hip a little. Harley gasped. "I wanted you then," Pam said through gritted teeth. "Wanted to push you back into the couch and take my time with you, kiss every part of you, tease you until we were both panting for it, make you feel so good."

She paused. "And that scared the shit out of me. Blew my whole ladylike persona straight to hell, I was _feeling_ these things that were so much more intense than anything I'd ever felt. _That's_ what I was thinking when I choked out your name, that's maybe what I would have said if you hadn't bolted."

"Please," Harley whispered, not sure exactly what she was begging for.

Pam came even closer now, her hand still gripping Harley's hip as she brought her other hand to trail lightly from Harley's wrist up along the soft skin of her forearm, lingering at the inside of her elbow.

"The next day," Pam said, "I still had all these fucking _feelings_. They progressed from dejection straight through to righteous Southern-lady anger."

"Steel Magnolias anger?" Harley said with a little grin.

"Fried Green Tomatoes anger," said Pam, bringing her hand up from Harley's arm to her hair, twisting it around her finger. "I had to channel that rage into something productive. Told Rick I was going to set up my new office. I did that, then found myself wandering off – that's when I found that trail with the creek."

"Your favorite place," Harley said.

"My favorite place," Pam echoed. "I walked and walked, so confused about you, and that's when I showed up at your door. Even then, I had no idea that our chemistry would boil over like it did."

She slid the hand at Harley's hip around to her lower back now, fingers and palm tight against her, pulled her closer. Harley gasped as Pam's hair dripped water down the front of her shirt. "God, all the feelings. I felt abandoned, angry, confused. Then we talked, and I was frustrated with you, and then just – frustrated. I couldn't _not_ touch you, brush my lips against your neck while you stood there at the sink."

Pam dropped her lips to brush gently against Harley's neck now. "I wanted to do more, so much more," she murmured, and when Harley felt those words against her neck, she moaned and slid her hands around Pam's waist.

"It took everything I had to walk away that night," Pam whispered, pulling back just a little to look into Harley's eyes. "But I'm not walking away this time. And you're not either." Harley shook her head.

"So," Pam said, stroking Harley's back through the t-shirt, cupping her neck now with her other hand, "even though I haven't ended my marriage yet, is it okay if I make love to you over and over tonight until you forget your own name?"

"Jesus Christ, Pam, just fucking take me already," Harley whispered, her fingers tightening on Pam's waist.

"Where's your bed?" Pam growled. Then: "Fuck it, I don't care."


	25. Chapter 25

**Hey – author here, hope it's okay that I write a brief A/N.**

 **I love the Harley/Ivy pairing, but my previous stories never got the following that this one has. It's been amazing.**

 **Thank you to the people who review this story regularly and remind me that it's worth it: Neveria, ToonTail, KatherineAmRi, and Moosedrool.**

 **And, of course, a special thanks to my fanfic spirit animal and amazing beta reader: AmberZ10.**

 **Whether you've been following this fic since the beginning or you just discovered it 5 years from now, hit me up with a review – I love hearing what people think and getting to connect with the people who actually read the junk I write.**

 **Okay, now enjoy the ensuing sexytimes. Our girls have earned it, we've all earned it :)**

 **Your friend,**

 **areyoukiddingmedude**

Their first kiss had been tentative, a gentle breeze on a summer day.

This one quickly escalated into a hurricane.

In the moment before they crashed together, the two women stood there, drinking each other in. Time seemed to freeze as Pam stroked Harley's lower back with one hand and cupped the back of her neck with the other, while Harley's fingers tightened on Pam's waist.

Then, at the same moment, both of them decided they couldn't wait another second. Harley yanked Pam even closer by her waist and stood on her tiptoes just as Pam pulled Harley to her by the back of her neck.

And then they were kissing, hard and desperate, pouring all the pent-up energy of months of dancing around each other into their lips and hips and fingers.

In their initial collision, Harley's lower lip ended up trapped between Pam's, and she wasted no time sucking on it until Harley gasped into her mouth, sliding her arms quickly up Pam's chest to twine them around her shoulders.

When Harley gasped, Pam instinctively licked into her mouth, just a tiny bit, just the tip of her tongue. Harley responded enthusiastically, sucking Pam's tongue farther into her mouth, moaning hungrily.

That moan undid Pam even further, and she slid her hand down from Harley's lower back to cup her ass, moaning herself when she felt how firm it was, how perfect it felt as she squeezed it, as she used the new angle to pull Harley tighter against her.

They moved as one, locked together, not coming up for air, seeking any surface that would give them more leverage. Finally, Pam felt the loveseat behind her, bumping into the backs of her knees. She kicked off her shoes, and her breasts slid against Harley's as the difference in their heights became less drastic, and the feeling of Harley's soft t-shirt against her wet skintight dress took her breath away.

Harley pushed Pam down so that she was sitting on the loveseat, and the move took both of them by surprise a little. They looked at each other for another second, breathing heavily, overwhelmed by the passion surging between them. Harley had one hand on Pam's shoulder, looking down at her where she sat on the loveseat, and Pam had managed to keep her one hand on Harley's ass as she fell backwards.

She moved that hand against Harley now, caressing the firm flesh, then dug her fingers in experimentally, watching how it made Harley bite her lower lip and roll her eyes up to the ceiling.

It finally dawned on Pam that Harley was wearing her favorite t-shirt, and as aroused as she was, it still made her smile. "What?" Harley gasped, lifting first one knee and then the other on either side of Pam, straddling her lightly where she sat.

"Nice shirt," Pam said in a strained voice as Harley settled on top of her.

"Oh, you like that?" Harley said, pushing against Pam more eagerly now, rocking into her, looking straight into her eyes. She leaned down, dragged her tongue just along the outside edge of Pam's ear, and whispered, "It smells like you, and I love the way our scents mix together."

"Jesus, Harley," Pam said, gulping. She noticed that her hair and the front of her dress were getting rainwater all over the front of Harley's shirt, and she said without thinking, "I got you all wet."

Harley pulled back a little. She cocked her head to one side, fixed Pam with a _look_ , and said in her best Pam impression, "You have no idea."

Which of course only turned Pam on even more, and she tugged Harley tighter into her, pulling her center flush against Pam's abdomen, and then slowly she slipped her hands under the t-shirt.

Pam inched her hands higher and higher, bit by bit, and Harley continued to rock against her as Pam lightly dragged her nails up Harley's tight abs, danced her fingers along her ribs, until she suddenly realized that Harley wasn't wearing a bra.

Pam felt the urge to ground herself or she knew she might explode, so she instinctively sunk her teeth into the closest thing, which happened to be Harley's upper arm. Harley gasped, and Pam quickly stammered an apology.

But Harley looked down at her again, blue eyes blazing, blonde hair as wild as Pam had ever seen it, and said, "Do it again." Pam groaned, nuzzled hard against Harley's neck, grazed her teeth against her collarbone and felt her head fall back in response.

Then suddenly, Pam was gently brushing her thumbs over Harley's perfect tits under her shirt, feeling her nipples harden instantly, and nothing in her whole life had ever felt so right. Harley started letting out little gasps each time Pam's thumbs grazed over her nipples, riding her harder.

"Take it off," Pam ordered, pushing the shirt up as high as she could so there would be no doubt what she meant. Harley smiled a little evilly as she reached down, crossing her arms in front of her and dragging the hem of her t-shirt up agonizingly slowly. "Faster," Pam growled, digging her fingernails into Harley's sides as her thumbs continued lightly brushing back and forth over her nipples. "I want to see you."

That got Harley to hurry, and she pulled the shirt off the rest of the way and threw it somewhere over the back of the loveseat.

Now naked except for her black boy shorts, Harley looked down at Pam, and there was a tiny bit of – shyness? nervousness? in her eyes that melted something inside Pam, made tears spring to her own eyes unbidden, and as she looked up at those blue eyes Pam breathed out, "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

"Show, don't tell, Red," Harley teased, and she pulled Pam's hands up against her pert breasts, hard. Pam palmed them, rolled them, and then lunged forward to suck a nipple wetly between her finger and thumb, sucking and releasing it in time as she pressed her hips up to meet Harley's thrusts against her.

"Oh god, Pam," Harley moaned. "Just like that, baby – oh god – if you keep doing that, I'm going to –" and then Pam sucked her nipple into her hot mouth, hard, and licked her tongue up and down it, and then Harley pressed down, _hard_ , and Pam felt a tremor run through Harley right before she collapsed against her, panting.

"Did you just –" Pam said, honestly surprised at how quickly it had happened.

"Well, you were doing that thing with your fingers, and your tongue, and god Pam your mouth was on my tit, and if you think about it that was actually like months in the making." Harley's face was flushed, her lips parted, breathing heavily, and Pam couldn't believe that she actually got to have this, that she got to make her fall apart like this.

"Wait a second," Harley murmured against Pam's neck after taking a second to recover, "I just figured out what's been bothering me."

Pam's heart stopped briefly, but started beating again when Harley said, "You're not wearing any green." Pam grinned wickedly and licked along Harley's collarbone then, making her moan. She husked, "Mmm, I am, but you're going to have to work for it this time."

Then Harley was suddenly pulling her to her feet (it was amazing how often she could _surprise_ Pam, even now, even like this), and she spun Pam around so she was facing the loveseat. Harley pushed her forward a little, so that one of Pam's knees came up to rest on the loveseat, her arms braced against the back of it.

Harley swept Pam's wet hair to the side, breathed against the back of her neck, slipped one hand around to her abdomen, flexed her fingers there and whispered, "Oh, I think I'll enjoy looking for that green very much." With her other hand, she reached up and dragged Pam's zipper down slowly, torturously, popping one metal tooth at a time. She pushed Pam's dress off her shoulders, and when she saw her green lace bra Harley bit back a moan and whispered triumphantly, "Found some."

"Oh, there's more," Pam panted, arching her back, trying desperately to get Harley closer.

"Hmm, let's see . . ." Now Harley reached down with both hands and at the same agonizing pace, slowly inched the hem of Pam's dress up until it was at her hips. She leaned back to take a look and – "Jesus Christ, Pam!" she hissed through her teeth when she saw the matching green lace thong.

She reached out, unable to help herself, slid her fingers under the band and pulled up on it, just a little. Pam moaned. "You're going to kill me, so fucking sexy," Harley whispered, pressing her naked breasts against Pam's back now, words hot against Pam's skin.

"Harley . . ." Pam said in a low voice, still bracing herself against the loveseat. "Get this dress off me, and then I'm going to taste you." Harley bit down into the soft flesh of Pam's shoulder, and neither of them was sure who moaned this time.

Harley backed up a step, giving Pam room to stand, and shoved her dress down to the floor. Pam turned around and pulled Harley into her arms again, Harley's naked breasts sliding against the rough fabric of Pam's bra, almost nothing between them now.

"You – you asked about a bed before?" Harley said, clearing her throat.

"Take me there," Pam said, "and I'm going to make you come using just my tongue."

Harley took her there.


	26. Chapter 26

**Warning: You may have noticed that I updated the rating to M. This chapter is nothing but pure smutty fluff. 100% smuff.**

 **If you don't like that, skip this one and as always, I'll tell you when it's okay to come back.**

 **Another warning: Don't compare your real-life significant other to Pamela Isley.**

Somehow (Harley wasn't quite sure how), they made it to the bed.

She found herself sprawled out on her back looking up at Pam, who was on all fours above her, her still-damp hair hanging down around them both. Pam's hands were braced on either side of Harley's shoulders, lightly pinning Harley's wrists down, her knees just outside Harley's hips. She wasn't touching her anywhere besides her wrists.

It was driving Harley insane. The not touching, the sexy wet hair, the smudged mascara, the fierce look in Pam's eyes – all of it.

"Pam," Harley whimpered, biting down hard on her lower lip. Pam leaned down and nuzzled lightly along her jawline. "Tell me what you want," she murmured.

"God – j-just touch me, please," Harley begged.

"Hmm," Pam said, pushing herself back up to stare down at Harley once more. "Touch you like . . . this?" And she did a _move_ where she stayed mostly up on all fours, but sort of rolled her hips down against Harley so their panty-clad centers brushed together, and in one rippling motion she was back up on all fours above her again. Harley gasped, and Pam took a shuddering breath, and Harley wasn't even sure she'd be able to do that herself, and she was a gymnast for chrissakes and my god, this woman was just taking her _apart_.

"Well?" Pam said, mock sternly. "Is that what you wanted?" Harley nodded, unable to speak, feeling hot all over except where damp red curls brushed her face.

"Mmm," Pam said, a low rumble of appreciation. "But, Harley –" and she rubbed down against her again, and Harley's eyes rolled up to the ceiling – "I made you a promise –" and she did it again, and this time Pam had to drop her face to Harley's neck just for a second, to get control of herself, before propping herself up on her arms again and fixing her with that intense stare.

"As much as I love _this_ ," Pam said, rolling down against her again with just enough pressure to have Harley gasping for more, "love the way I can feel how fucking wet you are for me –" and this one lasted a little longer, both of them pulsing against each other desperately for a second, feeling the scratchy pull of damp lace against cotton before Pam dragged herself up to all fours again – "I told you that I was only going to use my tongue."

She did one last slow roll against Harley, and this time as they rubbed together, Pam kissed her, tender and deep and languid, like they had all the time in the world.

Then she released Harley's wrists and started moving down her body, using her tongue as she went. She licked gently down along Harley's jawline, applying more pressure as she reached her collarbone, then gently kissing the area she'd scraped her teeth against earlier.

When her mouth slid over a nipple, Harley arched her back, seeking even closer contact. She clutched at the bedspread with one hand and buried her other hand in Pam's hair. Pam lapped at first one nipple, then the other, alternating between swirling her tongue in circles and licking straight up and down until Harley was a panting, writhing mess beneath her.

"Please," Harley breathed, trying to rock up against Pam, frustrated when she couldn't reach any part of her to rub against.

"Please what?" Pam said, looking up at her, loving the way Harley's pink tongue poked the tiniest bit out of her mouth, her completely ruined hair, her inability to form words.

"Please . . . go . . . lower," Harley managed to grind out, looking down at her plaintively.

Pam's nostrils flared at the thought, and she got that feral look in her eyes again as she slid down even lower on the bed, pausing to lick into Harley's bellybutton (she was so turned on she didn't even giggle), biting down lightly on the soft flesh of her hip.

Then she was finally between Harley's legs, looking up at her hungrily. "I like these," Pam said possessively, snapping the band of Harley's black boy shorts at her right hip, where three red diamonds formed a pattern.

"Umthanks?" Harley stammered out. Pam grinned and leaned closer, gently nuzzling against Harley's center through her panties. When her nose bumped Harley's clit, Harley groaned and instinctively bent her knees, giving Pam more access.

"I like them . . . but I need you to take them off right now," Pam said. Harley nodded and lifted up, shoving her panties down as best she could. Pam slowly dragged them the rest of the way down her legs, then tossed them behind her.

Now Harley lay completely naked, spread out before her, while Pam was still in her green lace bra and thong. Pam took a long look at her, all of her. "So fucking beautiful," she murmured.

And then she dipped her head, and licked up the length of her, slowly, taking her time, from where she was wet and glistening all the way to her sensitive nub. Without raising her head, Pam said right against her, so Harley could feel every puff of air, every rumble of her voice: "God, Harley, you taste even better than I imagined."

"Y-you imagined this?" Harley stammered, and Pam let out a low chuckle before repeating the motion, licking her from bottom to top. "Oh my god, you have no idea," she said. Another lick, and Harley could feel a tremor run through her legs. "On all those lonely nights when I was alone in the house . . ." Pam said – another leisurely lick – "whether I was exhausted from controlling myself around you all day, or missing you, or just thinking about you because I do that _100% of the time_ . . ." each of these was punctuated with a slow lick as well – "I would finally let my mind wander, alone in the bed, would picture you naked below me, would imagine your taste on my lips, your wetness on my tongue . . ." here, she raised her head, lips glistening, and fixed Harley with the hungriest gaze she'd seen yet.

"And I would slip my hand inside my silk pajama pants, think about fucking you, and I would come in _seconds_."

Harley groaned. She could feel herself starting to split open at the seams, lightning crackling under her skin.

And Pam licked the tip of her tongue inside Harley, then plunged the whole thing in, out, and in again, and Harley fell apart.

Her hips bucked toward the ceiling, her head rolled back, and her mouth opened in a silent scream as the most intense orgasm of her life crashed over her in waves. She could feel the rush of wetness, feel her walls pulsing around Pam's tongue as Pam slowly gentled her thrusts inside Harley and withdrew.

Pam stroked gently along Harley's leg and looked up at her, propping herself up by her elbows. Her mouth was swollen, her red hair a tangled mess, and her expression was the tiniest bit hesitant. "Was that . . . okay?" she said roughly.

"Are – are you kidding me right now?" Harley gasped, still trying to catch her breath. "That was – good god, Pam, are you sure you didn't used to do that for a living or something?"

"Pretty sure, yeah," Pam said, smiling. Then her eyes darkened. "I'm glad you liked it, because there's something else I want to try." She lowered her head again, that talented tongue once again accessing Harley's most intimate place.

"Pam – but – you haven't even – oh god, right there," Harley moaned, giving herself over to round . . . three, was it at this point? as Pam circled her clit with her slippery tongue, gradually increasing both her pressure and speed. Like she'd done with Harley's nipples, she alternated tracing hot wet circles with lighter up-and-down licks, finally ending with one upstroke after another as Harley's hips bucked beneath her, first in rhythm with Pam's strokes and then uncontrollably as she came closer and closer to the brink again.

"Shit, Pam, I'm going to – oh god, baby, yes!" And Harley came, shuddering, half-sitting up and clenching her legs around Pam's head, fisting a hand in her red waves.

She fell back, utterly exhausted, completely sated. Pam gently pulled back and then crawled back up Harley's body, falling against her, her head on Harley's sweat-kissed chest, Harley's arms wrapped tightly around her back, both of them breathing heavily.

"Well, I guess it's true what they say," Harley managed to say (you couldn't keep her silent for long). "Hmm?" said Pam absently, not moving a muscle. Harley grinned and said, "Tell a girl you love her and apparently she'll just fall right into bed with you. And give you three orgasms in a row, I actually didn't know that part."

Pam muttered, "I would hit you if I could move right now."

Harley got a mischievous gleam in her eye that Pam couldn't see. "Oh, can you not move?" she said, mock innocently, as she brought her knee up between Pam's legs. Pam actually hissed at the contact, her hips moving automatically back and forth, sliding her center against Harley's firm thigh. "Looks like you're moving a little now," Harley said wickedly.

"Harley," Pam said in the same broken voice she'd used on the couch all those weeks ago, when Harley had been touching her hip. Pam propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at Harley, still riding her thigh.

"God, you're wet," Harley marveled. "That's the hottest fucking thing I've ever felt." Pam moaned and rode her faster, and Harley reached up to pull Pam's bra cups down, to caress her full breasts. "Will you look at these," she breathed, gently sliding her thumbs over Pam's straining nipples.

Then she slipped a hand between them, right down the front of Pam's thong. They both sighed when Harley's fingers made contact for the first time, and Pam was so wet that Harley's first two fingers slipped right into her all the way.

Pam groaned, "Oh god, Harley, just like that," and she sat up a little more so she could ride Harley's fingers in earnest, lifting herself almost off them before coming back down, and then just rolling her hips back and forth, faster and faster.

She closed her eyes and tossed her head back, and Harley reached as deep inside Pam as she could and stroked her front wall with her fingers, whispered, "Come for me."

And finally, Pam did come, with the force of months of foreplay behind it. She felt it start in her toes and rush up to where Harley's fingers hit just that spot inside her, and she breathed faster, rocked harder, and then her whole body tensed up and she just started whispering "Harley, Harley, oh god Harley" over and over until she reached her peak and froze, waves of pleasure washing over her, coating Harley's fingers with her arousal, wailing out Harley's name until she collapsed on top of her, completely spent.

Harley slid her fingers out and twined her arm around Pam's back once more, gently tracing her ivy tattoo up and down, and they just lay there. Harley hummed lightly and stroked Pam's hair with her other hand, and Pam burrowed into her neck.

"This . . . you . . . so, so worth the wait," Pam murmured.

Harley smiled. "Worth several months of unbearable sexual tension?"

Pam somehow found the energy to lean up and look her in the eye. She swallowed. "Harley . . . I've been waiting 31 _years_ for you."

They moved as one then, lips meeting halfway in a tender kiss, arms and legs tangled around one another, holding each other close.

And it was perfect.


	27. Chapter 27

**Morning-after cuteness.**

 **WARNINGS:**  
 **This chapter is 92% smuff (smutty fluff), so if you don't like smut, skip to near the end.**  
 **The last 8% is drama. And when you get to that part...just trust me. We got to this point; we'll get through this too.**

The next morning, Harley whistled as she mixed pancake batter in a bowl. She was in a t-shirt and boxers – as insatiable as the two of them were together, they both preferred not to be naked while they slept.

Pam came in, yawning and rubbing her eyes, leaving Daffodil catnapping on the bed. She walked up behind Harley and wrapped her arms around her, leaning her head on the back of Harley's shoulder. Harley had relinquished the Green Day shirt, just for last night, and it smelled so perfectly like both of them now that Pam never wanted to take it off.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Harley said, pressing back against her. Pam snorted. "Can you blame me for being sleepy when _someone_ kept waking me up because she 'hadn't had enough yet'?"

"Mmm, I don't know," Harley said. "The way I remember it, I woke you up the first time by sliding my knee _so innocently_ between your legs, and by the time I woke up the second time, you already had my t-shirt all the way up to my neck and your mouth on my tits. So if you think about it, they were both your fault." She turned her head so Pam could kiss her good morning.

It started innocently enough, but then Pam deepened the angle, and Harley slipped her tongue into Pam's mouth. Harley reached a hand up behind Pam's neck to pull her closer, and then she started to turn around so she could hop up on the counter – but Pam stopped her.

"No," she said firmly, holding Harley in place where she was. Then she wetly sucked at her neck, in the same place where she hadn't been able to stop herself from planting a kiss in Harley's old apartment, and whispered in her ear, "I want to take you from behind."

"Red," groaned Harley, "you are literally going to kill me."

"Is that a no?" Pam said, a small smile playing on her lips as she lightly rubbed them up and down the side of Harley's neck.

"God, no," said Harley, gritting her teeth. "It's a 'get on with it.'"

As Pam sucked harder at the spot on Harley's neck until there was a mark blooming below the surface, she snuck her hands up inside Harley's t-shirt to cup her breasts. "I love that you don't wear a bra to bed," she whispered. "Mm-hmm," Harley said, reaching behind them to grab Pam's ass and pull forward on it, hard, while grinding her own rear back against Pam's center, "easy access."

Pam kept one hand on Harley's breast. With the other, she reached down and pulled her own t-shirt up slightly, so that she could feel herself rubbing against Harley's boxer-clad ass with only her panties in the way. They rocked together for a minute, silently – the only sounds in the kitchen were their occasional gasps as Pam tweaked a nipple or Harley pressed back in just the right way.

"You going to make me beg for it?" Harley asked, biting her lower lip in anticipation, rotating her hips in a circle and grinning when she heard Pam's sharp intake of breath. "Because I will."

"Oh, I know you would," Pam said. "But I don't think I can wait that long." She took half a step back and suddenly ripped Harley's boxers down to the floor with both hands, then put a hand in the center of her back, leaning her forward over the kitchen counter.

Pam groaned quietly at the sight of Harley's naked rear. "God, your ass is so tight," she said, reaching down to palm one of her cheeks, not letting her fingers dip into Harley's wetness just yet. "It's all the Cocoa Puffs," Harley managed to squeak out.

Pam bent one of her knees forward and used it to nudge Harley's legs farther apart. "I want you nice and open for me," she whispered.

"Goddammit, Red, just give it to me already," Harley growled. She tried to turn her head, to kiss Pam or glare at her, she wasn't sure – but Pam put a hand on the back of her neck and kept her facing forward, bent over the counter, as she finally reached down and slid two fingers slowly back and forth along Harley's slit.

"Yessss," Harley hissed, throwing her head back despite the hand on the back of her neck. Pam continued just sliding her fingers back and forth, spreading her wetness, making Harley twitch every time Pam's fingers slipped over her clit. She did this for a while, back and forth, until Harley was worked up into a frenzy, letting out little whimpers that drove Pam crazy.

" _Now_ I want you to beg for it," Pam said, grazing her teeth over the mark she'd left on Harley's neck, increasing the pace of her fingers ever so slightly.

"Please," Harley whispered, "please take me, please fuck me. I'm yours."

And with that, Pam plunged two fingers into Harley's waiting wetness from behind, still surprised every time at the powerful effect she had on the younger woman. Harley shivered as soon as Pam was inside her, and Pam could feel her walls already starting to tighten around her fingers.

"Shit, Pam. Oh, shit shit shit," Harley said, and when Pam didn't move right away, she started pushing back against her fingers, trying to get her to slide them in and out. "Feels . . . so good." And now Pam started working her fingers in and out, slowly at first but increasing in urgency as Harley fucked herself back against them.

"More," Harley urged, and Pam slid a third finger in on the next thrust. "Oh god, yes, fill me," Harley moaned, and when Pam picked up the pace even more, she could feel and hear how close Harley was, how her entire body was tensed now, awaiting release.

With an extra deep thrust, Pam's fingers sent Harley over the edge, and she cried out a little whimper and fell forward against the counter, her hips continuing to move on their own for a few more strokes as she came down.

"Holy . . . fuck . . . that was hot," Harley panted, leaning on her arm on the counter. Pam kissed the middle of her back (that's all she could reach from that angle) and slowly withdrew her fingers. She knelt down and slowly pulled Harley's boxers back up, and Harley jumped when the fabric touched her wetness.

"So, were you making pancakes?" Pam said casually, leaning on the counter beside Harley and looking up at her now.

"What? Oh, yeah – p-pancakes," Harley stuttered.

"Need any help?" Pam asked innocently.

Harley blinked at her and mumbled on one breath, "UmnothanksIgotthis."

"Then I'm going to go hop in the shower," Pam said. She kissed Harley on the cheek and sauntered away, pausing to lean on the door frame of the kitchen and purr in her most seductive voice, "Unless you want to join me?"

Harley miraculously felt a second wind come over her. "Pancakes, schmancakes," she said with a grin, and ran after Pam to the bathroom. "You realize I owe you, like, 17 orgasms," Harley said, and Pam just smiled and closed the bathroom door.

After "showering," they changed into their clothes for the day. Pam borrowed a top and some shorts from Harley, preferring not to do the walk of shame in her dress from last night.

Harley finally finished making the pancakes, and after the table was cleared, she snuggled into Pam's arms where she stood, holding her tight.

"By the way," Pam said quietly, burying her face in Harley's hair, "you don't have to be 'mine,' you know." Harley pulled back and looked up at her, confused but not concerned. "I mean," Pam went on, "when we were – earlier, in the kitchen – you said something like 'take me, I'm yours,' and I just want you to know that I don't ever want you to feel like you have to lose yourself in me."

"Aw, babe," Harley said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Pam on the nose, "I'm probably going to say a lot of stuff in the heat of the moment with you. Because there's a lot of heat, and a _lot_ of . . . moments." Pam smiled at that and pulled her close again. Harley said, "And that was sweet of you to say, but . . . I really do feel like I'm kind of yours, if you're okay with that." Her voice was muffled against Pam's shirt, but her meaning was clear as day. "I'm okay with that," Pam whispered into Harley's hair.

Harley sighed. "I should probably get ready for work."

Pam made a face and said, "And I . . . should get ready to go have that conversation with your – with Rick."

"Aw man," said Harley, wincing. "Good luck. I would be there for moral support, but . . ."

"Shh, sweetie, I know," Pam said. She pulled back a little bit, then tipped Harley's head back with two careful fingers under her jaw and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

Harley threw her arms around Pam's neck, and Pam's arms twined around Harley's waist like they were made for each other. They stood there, kissing, not taking it any further, just drinking each other in.

Then suddenly, there was a BOOM! and the door was flying open and they held each other tight and looked over in shock – and _he_ was there, in his purple shirt and jeans, holding a gun on them.

"You," Harley whispered, her voice quaking with rage and terror and disbelief. Pam held her protectively.

"Are. You. KIDDING ME?!" he said. He threw his head back, cackling, and then stopped just as suddenly and looked at them again. He was gleeful, clearly high on something.

He said, "Weeeellll, _that_ explains why the redhead wasn't – never mind, never mind, it's a surprise!"

Then, never losing his manic smile, he waved the gun at them and said, "Well, come on, bitches! We're going for a little ride."


	28. Chapter 28

Pam knew. The second Harley whispered "You," she knew.

This was the man who had hurt Harley, had taken her at her most vulnerable and twisted her up for his own sick motivations.

This was the man she had vowed to kill.

He held his gun tight against Harley's back, pushed Pam out the door first, made her walk ahead of them. "I'll shoot her if you try to call for help, if you turn around, if you so much as _think_ about trying to get away!" he trilled. Then he whispered to Harley, "God, I hope she tries something – don't you?"

There were at least six things she _could_ try. The second he'd burst through that door, Pam's mind had gone into pure logic mode: evaluating possible scenarios, analyzing the risks, estimating the likelihood of success. She wasn't scared – at least, not on her own behalf.

But she was terrified for Harley.

Not just for the immediate danger they were in, but also for the potential regression to her previous emotional state. Pam had seen the damage that was done the last time he'd gotten his hooks in her, and she'd spent weeks helping Harley heal from that.

She kept facing straight ahead. It was probably best that he didn't see the look in her eyes.

Yet.

Harley shuffled along mechanically. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other, on the way the sun reflected off of Pam's gorgeous hair the second they stepped outside, on anything she could grasp onto besides the gun in her back, his wheezing laugh in her ear, the familiar sickly sweet smell of him. She imagined Pam's voice in her mind, saying _Everything is going to be okay, Harley. You are going to be okay._

His dingy gray car was parked illegally outside her building, and Harley desperately wished that a police officer would come by and give him a ticket right then, and she just knew Pam would figure out a way to signal to them, and everything would turn out okay.

No police car.

"Sorry, mommy dearest, you need to get in the back seat," he was saying to Pam. "Harley calls –" and here he showed her a peek of the gun – "shotgun!" He dissolved into giggles before opening the back door and shoving Pam roughly in, keeping the gun pressed to Harley's back the whole time.

He leaned down and hissed at her, "Sit on your hands," and Harley saw Pam obey.

They looked at each other then, and the moment seemed to stretch forever. Pam searched Harley's blue eyes, making sure she was in there and not lost in her own head. She saw fear there, but also lucidity, like Harley was trying to tell her "I'm okay."

In Pam's green eyes, Harley saw concern for her, reassurance that this would all work out in the end – and when _he_ grabbed Harley's arm and pulled her away to throw her in the passenger seat, a flash of cold fury.

He slammed the passenger door, then bounced around to the driver's seat. "Seatbelts, ladies!" he called. "Well – not you back there. Keep sitting on your hands. But Harley, buckle up!" He threw the car into drive and pulled out onto the road, holding the gun in his left hand against the steering wheel, not taking it off of Harley for a second.

They turned onto a road leading out of town, in the opposite direction from the house.

"So, Harley, how have you been?" he said, his voice deceptively casual. "It's been _ages_!"

She was quiet, looking straight ahead. Pam tensed in the back seat, mentally willing Harley not to make this madman angry, not when he had a gun pointed at her.

"Haaaarley," he said in a singsong voice. "It's rude not to answer someone when they ask you a question."

"I've been okay," Harley said quietly.

"Just okay?" he said. "Just okay? Jesus, Harley, have you _seen_ that hot piece of ass in the back seat? Even _I_ can admit that you traded up!" He threw his head back and laughed, then stopped suddenly. "Ooh," he said, "maybe I should 'trade up' with the redhead today, too. Then wouldn't we all be one big happy family!"

His voice grew quiet, menacing. "You know what's funny, Harley?" he said. "The fact that you fucking thought you could escape me." He jerked his head to indicate Pam. "Did you tell her about the games we used to play? All the ways I used to show you that you were mine?"

"She was never yours," said Pam coldly from the back seat. She wanted to take his focus off Harley, didn't like where this was heading.

"She speaks!" he chortled. "Oh, one mention of how special Harley and I were together and she just can't resist!" He met Pam's eyes in the rear view mirror. "I'm going to shoot Harley today," he said, "because I loved her. Or something. But you . . . you, I'm going to cut up. Slowly." Then, cheerfully: "Oh, here we are!"

They pulled off onto a side road that led to a dilapidated warehouse, and he stopped the car suddenly. He got out and jerked the gun at Harley to climb out his side, which she did with some effort. This time, he held the gun to Harley's head and kicked Pam's door. "Get out!" he said, and she did, choosing to look encouragingly at Harley instead of shooting a death glare at him.

"I have a surprise for you two," he whispered, a gleam in his eyes. He shoved a key into Pam's hand. "Go open the door," he said. "No funny stuff or, well . . ." he waggled the gun and Harley flinched.

After a couple of tries with shaking hands, Pam got the key into the padlock and opened it. "Now back off," he said, pushing her back with the hand that wasn't holding the gun on Harley. He took the padlock off and swung the door open. "Ladies fi-irst!" he sang, pushing first Pam and then Harley through the door. Pam brushed Harley's hand with her fingertips as she went past, trying to reassure her with the slightest touch.

As Harley's eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering in through filthy windows, she could make out a large open area, with three chairs, a mattress, and some smaller items clustered at the end closest to them.

"Hee hee!" he giggled, shoving Harley forward with the gun and Pam with his other hand. "The moment of truth! Couldn't you just _die?_ "

It gradually dawned on Harley that one of the chairs had – was that a person? She could see now that it was. The person was tied to the chair, slumped over, but as they approached he raised his head and Harley could see that he was gagged, too. _What is this?_ she thought. _Who–_

And then Pam gasped beside her, the man behind them giggled again, and reality slowly dawned on Harley.

" _Pop?!_ "


	29. Chapter 29

**Warning: crazy Joker being crazy Joker in this one.**

"Yes!" the madman said, clapping his hands, delighted. "It _is_ dear old dad!"

Harley's eyes had adjusted to the low light now, and she saw the moment the realization dawned on Rick who the two new prisoners were. His eyes bulged, he screamed against the gag, and he almost tipped the chair over trying to get out of his restraints. "Pop . . ." she said again.

"I told you I'd be back with a present!" the other man said. "And see – I brought you _two_! Of course, I should have gotten a gift receipt – you'll probably want to return these when you know the truth, but–"

"Don't," said Pam, quietly, clearly.

He leaned up, leering over her shoulder, talking in her ear. "What was that?" he said.

"You don't have to do this," Pam said. "Whatever this is – whatever you want – let's talk about it. I – I can get you money, if that's what you need."

"Money?" he cackled, still leaning over her. "You think I want – oh, Dr. Isley, you are nowhere near as smart as your reputation indicates." He tapped her lightly on the head with the gun, whispered, "What I want, my dear ginger – is _vengeance_."

He shoved between the two women so that he was centered among all three of his captives. "But first – I seek _truth_."

He sat down in the chair next to Rick, crossed one leg over the opposite knee, and leaned forward on the hand that wasn't holding the gun. With barely suppressed glee, he said, "Hey Rick! Ricky Ricardo! Rikki Tikki Tavi! Go ahead and ask these two where I found them. Ask them, ask them, ask them!" He paused, awaiting Rick's reply.

Harley instinctively started to reach for Pam's hand, but when she saw Pam's tiny head shake she restrained herself in front of her father. She settled for tentatively meeting her eyes instead, and Pam flashed her the tiniest hint of a smile. _God, I love her_ , Harley thought.

He was still waiting for Rick's response, getting angry now. "Ask them!" he said, jumping to his feet. Then: "Oh! You're still gagged! My bad, fella, that one's on me." He threw his head back and laughed, then roughly tugged Rick's gag down.

"Everything is going to be okay," Rick said instantly, his voice rough. Harley wondered how long he'd been here. "We'll get you two out of here–"

"That's not what I said to ask them!" the other man shouted, hitting Rick in the back of the head with the gun, not hard enough to knock him out but hard enough that he'd have a goose egg later.

Harley took half a step forward without thinking, but Pam quickly put a hand out to stop her, along with a small shake of her head. Rick grunted and slumped forward, then sat back up again with some effort. "Well?" the other man said, tapping an imaginary watch on his wrist and spreading his hands out like _I'm waiting_.

Rick sighed, resigned. "Where did he–"

"Wait!" the other man shouted suddenly, smacking himself on the forehead. "Let's get everyone ready before we begin." He turned to Pam and Harley. "Ladies?" he said, pulling the two empty chairs around to face Rick, gesturing for them to sit down.

The two of them stepped forward, hesitantly. "I'm sure there's no reason to–" Rick began, but he clammed up when the other man raised the gun as if he were going to hit him again.

Pam and Harley sat down. Their chairs were close enough that their knees bumped. Rick tried to smile at them reassuringly, and neither of them could quite meet his eyes.

"You! MILF! Tie your ankles to the chair," the other man said, grabbing some lengths of rope from a pile and tossing them roughly at Pam. She flicked a quick look at Harley, and then bent to do as he asked. "Make it tight, or, you know . . . I'll shoot her," he said, casually pointing the gun in Harley's direction.

When she finished, he bent down and tugged on the ropes, apparently satisfied that they were tight enough. "Now do her," he leered, then clapped a hand to his mouth. "Oops! Spoiler alert!"

Pam took a couple pieces of rope and bent to tie Harley's ankles to her chair. It was an awkward angle, but the way she was bent over, Pam was able to press a surreptitious kiss to Harley's knee without either man seeing, which gave both of them a little burst of resolve.

Once again, he tested the ropes, then gestured dramatically for Rick to continue.

Rick cleared his throat. "Where . . . where did he find you?" he said reluctantly.

"Pop," Harley began in a broken voice – but Pam cut her off. Harley shouldn't have to be the one to do this.

"Rick," Pam said, "I don't know who this man is or why he's seeking vengeance on the three of us. But–" she took a deep breath, ignoring the madman when he hissed _Yessssss_ – "when he kidnapped us, I was actually on my way to come talk to you."

"Be strong, Pam," Harley whispered, so low that only Pam could hear her, and the redhead gave a tiny nod before going on.

"The truth is," she said, looking Rick straight in the eye, "after spending so much time getting to know Harley this summer, I-I've developed feelings for her." She snuck a brief glance at Harley, getting up the courage to go on, then looked away. "Actually . . . I've fallen in love with her." She heard Harley's sharp intake of breath, but kept her eyes on Rick's face, watching him carefully. Right now he seemed disbelieving, almost amused. Harley kept holding her breath, silent and still beside Pam.

"He doesn't believe you," hissed the other man, looking back and forth between them. "Make him believe or she dies right now."

"Did you wonder where I was last night?" Pam said, a bit desperately. "I was at Harley's new apartment. That's where he found us this morning when he went there to grab Harley. We-it was our first time together," she added, more quietly.

"Fascinating!" the madman said enthusiastically. "Now we're finally getting somewhere, eh Rick? But, Dr. Isley, one follow-up question: your first time doing _what_?" He reached out and stuck an imaginary microphone under Pam's chin. She instinctively reached out to smack his hand away, and he straightened back up, shaking his head and _tsk_ ing at her. "Answer the question, please!"

Pam sighed. She managed to keep her gaze steady on Rick's as she said, quietly, "Our first time . . . sleeping together."

"No!" the other man cried. "No, no, no! Call it what it really was!" Then, in a low hiss: "Remember, I know _exactly_ how rough Harley likes it."

Understanding was gradually starting to dawn in Rick's eyes now, battling against disbelief. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the thoughts now starting to take hold. Pam ground her teeth together and said, "Our first time making love."

"Aw!" said the madman, putting his hands under his chin and fluttering his eyelashes. "Twue wuv!" Then he leaned right into Pam's face, shoved the gun hard into Harley's ribs (all three of them gasped at that) and said, in a guttural whisper, "Now. Say it. Dirtier."

He backed off just as suddenly. Pam sneered at him for a second, her green eyes flashing with a look of pure loathing, and then reluctantly met Rick's eyes once more. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "It was our first time . . . fucking."

Harley slowly slipped her hand under Pam's, lacing their fingers together, and gave Pam a look of such tenderness and support that the realization finally hit Rick full force. "You – that – are you fucking _kidding_ me?" he spluttered.

"Yippee!" the other man exclaimed, clapping his hands jubilantly.

"Christ, Pam – that's my _daughter_ ," Rick said, hollowed out and broken.

"I swear, I was on my way to talk to you when he kidnapped us," Pam said, trying to explain.

"Ha!" snorted the madman. "If by 'on my way to talk to you,' you mean 'five seconds away from taking your daughter on her kitchen table.'"

Now Pam turned her glare on him, full force. " _You_ ," she said, and her tone was so intense that Harley swore she could feel the ground rumbling under her feet. "You are beneath contempt. Worthless. When I kill you, not even your mother will mourn you."

He stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Ooh, that was so scary!" he said with a mocking shiver. "The woman tied to the chair is going to kill the man with the gun." Then his tone shifted, became thoughtful. "You know," he said, tapping the gun against his chin, "I was really looking forward to killing both of you ladies –" here, he crossed behind Rick's chair and pulled out a knife, making Pam gasp and Harley squeeze her eyes shut – "but now I'm thinking I'll share the wealth."

With a single swipe downward, he cut the ropes binding Rick's arms to the chair. Rick flexed them, rubbed them, trying to get the blood flowing again. His face was dark, closed off, unreadable. Harley risked a peek and saw that he was still alive, her breath whooshing out in relief.

"How ya feelin', Ricky Martin?" the other man said lightly. Rick didn't answer, didn't look at anyone. Just sat there.

"No, really, I want to know," said that voice from behind him, as the other man casually trailed his knife along the back of Rick's neck. "Okay, Mr. Grumpypants, I'll get you started. Hurt?" Rick hesitated, then nodded once. "Betrayed?" Another nod. "Disgusted? Filled with rage? Ready to _do something about it?_ " He spit each word out, faster and faster, and Rick nodded after each one, the tendons in his neck visibly pulled taut.

Pam and Harley watched, silent. The mood was so tense that they were both afraid to move a muscle, to make a sound. Pam gently stroked her thumb over Harley's hand, and that was all.

The other man was suddenly in front of Rick's chair, his back to the girls. Then he danced away to the side, and they could see that Rick now held the gun.

"Do it," the madman whispered, the gleam in his eyes now brighter than ever. Rick raised the gun, pointing it at the two women.

Without a conscious thought, Pam lunged in front of Harley, pivoting her chair to face her, throwing her arms around her, shielding her with her body as best she could.

"Do it!" the madman cackled. "Do it now, and I'll report back to Mr. –"

The shot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space of the warehouse.


	30. Chapter 30

When the gun went off, Pam's arms instantly tightened around Harley, pulling Harley's face into the crook of her shoulder, trying desperately to block the bullet. She heard someone whispering Harley's name over and over again, barely audible above the ringing in her ears, and it finally dawned on Pam that it was her.

Slowly, carefully, she pulled back just slightly to assess the damage, terrified of what she might find.

And she gasped when she saw blood spattered along Harley's right side.

Pam couldn't breathe, kept gasping for air, felt her vision start to go dim around the edges – until Harley pulled back, shaking, and looked her in the eyes. "Pam," she said, putting her hands gently on Pam's cheeks, "are you okay? Did he hit you?"

The redhead drew a shuddering breath. "No," she croaked. "But –" she looked closer at the blood on Harley's side, realized finally that _it wasn't Harley's_ , felt her heart start to beat again. She leaned her forehead against Harley's, relieved beyond belief. "I thought –"

Harley looked down, saw the blood on her shirt, and understood. "It's-it's not mine," she said. She took a look at Pam now. "You have some on your left side too."

 _Snick!_

They jumped apart at the sound, suddenly remembering their surroundings. Pam's chair scraped back as she half-whirled to face the source.

Rick was bending over, working at the rope tying his right leg to the chair, not looking at either of them. He'd just used the madman's knife to slice the rope around his left leg.

And . . . he'd shot the man, right in the neck from the looks of it. Pam could see his body lying there facing up, grin still plastered on his face, his throat blasted open. She shuddered at the sight, and at the thought that she and Harley were covered in _his_ blood. She dug her fingers into Harley's thigh to steady herself, to find something solid to anchor her. Then she looked at the blonde.

Harley was staring too, but not at the body.

"Pop?" Harley whispered.

Rick stiffened. He'd freed both legs and was facing away from them, crouched down, looking for something on the ground. At Harley's tentative whisper, he stood slowly, keeping his back to the two women.

"No," he said in a low voice. Pam saw his fist clench and unclench, his other hand still gripping the knife. She braced her palm on Harley's thigh, seeking to comfort her, and steeled herself for whatever came next. She'd been ready to take a bullet for her – she could take a stab wound, if it came to that.

"No?" Harley echoed, not getting his meaning.

He took a deep breath, half-turning so he was not quite facing them. Pam heard a quaver in his voice as he said, "You . . . are not my daughter."

Harley choked out a little sob, and Rick automatically started to turn toward her – but then he turned away and went back to whatever he was looking for on the ground.

The two women stayed frozen just like that – Harley was in shock at apparently losing her father for good, and Pam was dying to comfort her but knew she shouldn't do too much in front of Rick. Then Rick stood up, his cell phone in hand. He walked over and stood near a window, leaning against the wall of the warehouse as if he didn't trust his legs to keep him upright.

"Yes, I have an emergency," they could just barely hear him say. "There are two women being held captive in an abandoned warehouse off the highway –" he gave the address – "and I just shot and killed their kidnapper."

Then he ended the call, turned stiffly, and walked out the door without another look back.

Harley broke down and sobbed then, crumpling against Pam's shoulder, heaving huge gulping sobs so that she could barely catch her breath. Pam held her tight, stroked her back, kissed her hair.

They both kept their eyes squeezed shut, as if it would shut out the events of the last hours somehow, as if it would erase the image of the dead man from their minds.

When the emergency responders got there 11 minutes later, they found the two women just like that: eyes shut, arms around each other, clinging together as if their lives depended on it.

Pam opened her eyes when she heard footsteps, and she silently watched two police officers enter the warehouse, guns drawn. When they were sure that the area was secure, they radioed for the EMTs, who rushed in from outside.

One of the officers nodded toward the body on the floor, and the other went to examine it. The first officer walked over to Pam and Harley. She crouched down and said, "I'm Officer Montoya. That's Officer Bullock. We're going to get you out of these chairs, and these EMTs will make sure you're okay. Then, when you're ready, we'll take your statement about what happened here today."

Pam met her eyes and nodded. Harley's face was still buried in Pam's neck. She hadn't moved from that position since Rick walked out of the warehouse.

Officer Montoya whispered something to one of the EMTs, then went over to talk with Officer Bullock, who had been joined by a crime scene tech. A photographer was there too, taking pictures of every inch of the warehouse, and after he got some shots of the two women in the chairs, Montoya nodded to the EMTs, who untied them.

Harley was still curled up against Pam. One of the EMTs bent down to their level. She had red hair, longer than Pam's, and it cascaded down her back. "Hi, I'm Kate," she said gently. "Let's get you both out of here and get you checked out."

"Ma'am, can we help you to the ambulance?" the other EMT asked Harley. Pam shook her head, and stood on wobbly legs, supporting both their weight. "Harley," she whispered, "Let's get out of here."

Harley finally pulled away from the crook of Pam's neck, her tears sticking and making the separation sting a little, blinking as she took in her surroundings and all the new faces. She nodded absently and they headed slowly for the door, arms still tight around one another.

Sensing that they didn't want to be separated, the EMTs sat them side by side in the back of an ambulance and did a brief physical exam, checking their pupils, their reflexes, looking over their bodies for any sign of injury. They removed the bloody clothing and put it in a plastic evidence bag, put gowns on both women and blankets for some additional privacy.

Whenever possible, Pam and Harley kept their hands tightly laced together. Pam traced her thumb over the back of Harley's hand, her wrist, trying to say with a gentle touch what she wasn't sure how to say out loud.

"Well, you're both in good shape, considering," Kate said with a reassuring smile. Pam returned it as best she could, and the two EMTs walked over to talk with Officer Montoya, who was standing a respectful distance away, obviously waiting to talk with them.

There was a second ambulance there, and Pam assumed it was for the body. They were probably waiting to wheel it out until she and Harley were gone, she reasoned.

"Hey, Red?" Harley said in a tiny voice. They were facing ahead, legs dangling off the back of the ambulance, sides pressed tightly together. Pam looked at her, wrapped an arm around her waist. "I'm here," she said, pressing a kiss to Harley's temple.

"I'm pretty sure all these nice people are going to know we're doing it," Harley said, and Pam actually chuckled at that. "Only if they have eyes," she replied.

"Also," Harley went on, still in that little voice, "I want you to know that I'm okay. I mean – I'm probably in shock, and who knows if we'll have PTSD down the line, but . . . deep down, I'm okay, if that makes sense."

"Well," said Pam, "you're one of the strongest people I know, so yeah. That makes sense."

Harley sighed. "I think . . ." she trailed off, then started again. "I think I'm going to have to tell them about what I did during those weeks I was with-when I was working for _him_."

Pam considered it. "You're probably right," she said. "But – I'm sure they'll go easy on you for your part in it."

Montoya walked over then, thumbs in her belt loops. "You two doing okay?" she said. This time, Harley nodded too, and Montoya looked satisfied at that. She said, "I'd like to drive you to the station now, take your official statements. Do you think you can handle that?"

Harley looked at Pam. "You can do this," Pam said quietly. Harley looked up at Montoya and said, "Okay."

"You want to ride in my car?" Montoya said. "Or I could have the ambulance drop you off at the station."

Pam didn't care either way, but Harley mumbled, "Ambulance."

"All right," said Montoya. "See you there." She made eye contact with Pam and nodded once, then walked away and talked to the EMTs briefly. Pam noticed that the redheaded EMT seemed to blush a little whenever Montoya was around, and the thought made her grin to herself.

"Heard we get to give you a lift," Kate said, coming over and smiling. "Come on."

They climbed into the back of the ambulance. Harley and Pam sat on one gurney, and Kate sat facing them on the other. The driver climbed in, and finally they got to leave the place of their nightmares.

Once they pulled onto the main road, Harley made eye contact with Pam, bit her lip, and then gently pushed Pam back until she was lying on her back along the gurney. Harley lay down too, snuggling up on top of her. Pam wrapped her arms around Harley, brushed her lips against her forehead, closed her eyes, smelled sunshine.

Kate smiled, watching them. You weren't supposed to sit like that in the back of an ambulance, but . . . screw it. There was just something about these two.

Then she looked ahead, trying to give them some privacy as they cuddled.

When they arrived at the police station, she was still smiling.


	31. Chapter 31

**Law & Order: Fluff V U.**

 **I haven't mentioned it in a while, but AmberZ10 is always working on your behalf behind the scenes of this fic, giving me feedback to make it better.**

 **But any ridiculous errors regarding the criminal justice system, or anything you don't like - that's on me :)**  
 **-aykmd**

The ambulance jostled a little as they parked at the station, and Harley kind of headbutted Pam in the jaw from her snuggly position on top of her. "Oops!" she giggled, raising herself up and looking down at the redhead.

And for a second, it was just the two of them – everything fell away as Harley looked into Pam's eyes. She noticed that besides the bright green she'd always loved, there were little flecks of gold in her irises, and discovering something new about Pam brought a little smile to Harley's lips.

Pam reached up a hand and smoothed Harley's wayward blonde hair behind one ear, then lightly caressed her lower lip with her thumb. She was surprised when that light touch made Harley's blue eyes darken. Her tongue flicked out and licked her lips, brushing the tip of Pam's thumb.

Pam barely had time to move her hand out of the way before Harley leaned down and met Pam's lips in a hungry kiss. Harley wasted no time, sliding her tongue along the seam of Pam's lips until Pam parted them slightly, and Harley's tongue slipped right in.

The redhead moaned, low in her throat, and instinctively slid a knee up between Harley's legs. Harley began to rock, just a little, panting slightly now –

"AHEM!"

Harley jumped up, smacking her head on the supply cabinet above the gurney. "Ow!" she said, wrinkling her nose at the intruder.

Kate sat there, arms crossed, leaning against the opposite wall of the ambulance. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and she sounded like she was actively trying not to laugh. "Looks like I might have to do that concussion check again – you two don't seem to know where the fuck you are right now!"

And of course, Officer Montoya chose that moment to throw open the back door of the ambulance. Her dark eyes swept the interior, taking in the three women. Harley was still half-straddling Pam, rubbing her head, looking confused. Pam was leaning up on her elbows under Harley, looking a little mussed but managing to pull off her impassive robot look to some extent. And Kate the EMT's eyes were about to bug out of her head because everything about this was inappropriate – the position Pam and Harley were in, the f-bomb Montoya had surely heard – every part of it.

Montoya put her hand to her face, massaged the bridge of her nose. Then she cleared her throat, said, "Interview rooms are this way," and walked away.

Kate scrambled out and stood by the door of the ambulance, putting the step down so the other two women could climb out more easily.

Harley disentangled herself from Pam and stood up, crouching over slightly in the enclosed space of the ambulance. She held out a hand to Pam, who also mostly stood, smoothing down her hospital gown as if she were attending a formal soiree. Harley trailed her fingertips along Pam's forearm and whispered, "Is it weird that I'm super wet for you right now?"

"Jesus!" Pam exclaimed, straightening up and banging her head hard on the ceiling of the ambulance.

"Seriously?" Kate called from outside. "Could you two _maybe_ stop hitting your heads every five seconds?"

Eventually, they made it out of the ambulance, and Kate slammed the back door shut. Now Pam was the one rubbing her head. She shot a look at Harley, who shrugged innocently.

"Thanks for the ride!" Harley said.

"My pleasure," said Kate, smiling. "I hope the next time we see each other, it's under better circumstances." She put a hand on Pam's arm, said quietly, "Take good care of her," and then she hopped into the passenger side and the ambulance drove away.

Harley and Pam looked at each other, nervous now about what lay ahead.

"Ladies!" Montoya called from where she was holding the door open for them. She gestured impatiently for them to hurry up.

Harley tucked her arm into Pam's, and together they walked up to the police station.

Once they got inside, there was some paperwork to fill out, and then the three of them sat down in what looked like a small conference room, just a table and a few chairs.

"Now," Officer Montoya began, "we're just taking your witness statements. But if you feel that you could incriminate yourselves for anything, you might want to have a lawyer present."

Harley looked at Pam. She asked, a little embarrassed, "Do you know any good lawyers? Most of my friends are in food service or rescue puppies for a living."

Pam asked Montoya if she could make a phone call, and Montoya pointed her to a desk phone since both women's cell phones were back at the apartment. That was fine – Pam knew the number by heart.

When she stepped back into the interview room, Pam said, "A lawyer should be here for Harley in about 20 minutes."

"Thanks, Red," Harley said. "I'll figure out a way to pay you back, don't worry."

Pam chuckled. "Believe me, neither of us will have to pay a cent for this." Harley looked a little confused, but let it drop.

"Is there someone who can get you both a change of clothes?" Montoya asked. "Anyone you need to inform of your whereabouts?"

"My mom lives in Florida," Harley mumbled. "But I should probably call work and tell them why I'm not there."

Pam shook her head. There was no one else she needed to call. Harley put a hand on top of Pam's, seeing the look in her eyes. "Hey," she said, and Pam looked at her. "I'll call Thomas and see if he can get us some clothes from my apartment, okay?" Pam nodded, and Harley kissed the hand she held before standing up and following Montoya to the desk phone.

Montoya came back in while Harley was making the two calls. She leaned against the door and looked at Pam thoughtfully. "Do you want some water or a snack or something? We have terrible cop coffee and a terrible cop vending machine at your disposal."

Pam smiled weakly. "Harley's probably hungry," she said.

"And you?" Montoya said. "I assume you eat food?"

"When I have to," said Pam. "But I'm not hungry right now, thank you." She paused. "Actually – do you think I could get a cup of hot tea?" The exhaustion was starting to catch up with her now.

"You know, we might actually have a box of tea bags in the break room," Montoya said. "Pretty sure it's from 1986, but I assume that won't be a problem?" One side of Pam's mouth quirked in amusement, and Montoya went out to look for the tea.

Harley came back in, chewing half a Snickers bar. "Mmm, that hitsh the shpot!" she said. She held the other half out to Pam, swallowing. "Want some? Montoya's partner, that Bullock guy, gave it to me."

"No thanks, I'm good," Pam said. "Montoya's making me some tea."

"Ooh, do you think they have hot chocolate?" Harley said eagerly, shoving the other half of the candy bar into her mouth as she bounced out to find Montoya.

Pam sat there alone, trying to process things as best she could. She felt completely unmoored, even more so than these last confusing months. _Think, Pamela_ , she told herself. There was so much to plan for, so many unknowns, god she was so worried about Harley, the lawyer would be there any minute, a man got _murdered_ in front of her, his blood was all over her and the woman she loved . . .

It was too much suddenly, suffocating. Pam put her head down on her arms and finally let herself cry.

A minute later, she heard footsteps, and the chair next to her was being pulled out. Harley sat down next to her and put her arms around Pam's shoulders, holding her and rubbing her back as she sobbed. "Thomas is bringing us some clothes," she said quietly, then just held her.

Eventually, Pam raised her head and looked at Harley. "Thanks," she croaked. Harley pressed a kiss to her temple, as Pam so often did for her.

Montoya cleared her throat, and Pam saw her standing by the door. She'd probably been standing there the whole time, Pam thought, but she hadn't interrupted.

"Harley's lawyer is here," she said. "The sooner we get these statements taken . . ."

"Of course," Pam said, wiping her eyes, composing herself. "I'm ready." Harley winked at her, sipped her hot chocolate, and passed Pam a faintly steaming styrofoam cup with a tea bag floating in it. Pam took a sip and grimaced, which made Harley giggle. "You should see your face!" she said.

"Montoya," Pam gasped, "this tea already had _grandkids_ in 1986. Ugh."

"Tea-ny grandchildren!" said Harley. Pam and Montoya rolled their eyes in perfect unison. But Pam noted that, as always, Harley was silly at the perfect moments to get her through the hard times. She squeezed Harley's hand, then turned to Montoya.

"Let's do this."


	32. Chapter 32

They split up for their interviews: Montoya talked with Harley, while Bullock interviewed Pam next door.

When they had to separate, Pam took Harley's hands in both of hers and leaned their foreheads together, just for a second. Harley kissed her on the nose, Pam smiled, and they went into their respective rooms.

The man in the expensive suit was obviously Harley's lawyer. He was already seated at the table, and Harley pulled up the chair next to him. "Do you work for Selina Kyle?" she whispered. He nodded, confirming her suspicions, and she smiled at Selina's thoughtfulness.

The ambulance ride and snuggling with Pam had helped Harley detach from the day's trauma, but the reality of the situation was starting to catch up with her now. Not all at once, but in little flashes – she thought randomly about a drawer in the new apartment that was sticking, and for a fleeting second she thought "I'll just ask Pop to take care of it." But then she remembered, and she saw the hollow look on his face, and she knew she might never see him again.

Or she thought about Pam, wondered how her interview was going – and then she could feel Pam's desperation when she thought Harley had been shot, could smell the blood on both of them.

Harley rested her chin in one hand, feeling dazed. She wished Pam were there.

"Okay, Harley, are you ready?" Montoya asked, and she nodded absently. Montoya started with some basic questions, easing her into it, and then had Harley recount the events of that day, starting with the moment he burst through the door.

Harley told the truth. It was hard. Sometimes she teared up, sometimes she stared off into space for a minute, and sometimes she curled up into a little ball, pulling her knees to her chest. But she got through it.

She didn't say anything about her relationship with Pam, figuring that if the cops needed to know about it, they'd ask. Maybe the two of them had been stupid with all the PDA today, but she'd needed the physical comfort. They both had.

They went through her statement a couple of times as Montoya tried to prompt her for additional details, things she might have forgotten the first time through. Then Montoya said, "Okay. I think we're done for today." Her chair scraped as she started to stand from the table.

"Wait," said Harley in a small voice. Montoya sat back down and looked at her. "There's something else," Harley said.

Her lawyer pulled her aside. He hadn't talked much throughout Harley's statement – nothing she was saying seemed like it could incriminate her. But now he whispered, "What are you doing?"

"There's some more stuff I gotta tell the detective," Harley said. She looked at Montoya. "I already told you about my previous . . . relationship with the kidnapper. But what I didn't tell you is that I was involved in the 'business' side of his life as well."

Her lawyer said, "Ms. Quinzel, I strongly advise you not to speak further of this unless you're formally charged with a crime."

Montoya was still watching Harley carefully. "All I'm saying is . . . I know stuff. Stuff that might help you," Harley finished.

"Good to know," said Montoya.

"Is my client free to go?" the lawyer asked. "Or are you planning to interrogate her about her ex's business dealings?"

The expression on Montoya's face was obviously a well-honed mask of professionalism, a poker face forged through hundreds of interrogations and late nights. Harley only saw the tiniest softening around her eyes as she said, "We have a lot of evidence to sort through tonight. I need to focus on the homicide investigation for now." She stood. "But Harley – I'll give you a call soon. We appreciate any information you can give us about his known contacts or patterns of behavior."

Harley nodded, and she and the lawyer stood too. He handed her a business card, said "Don't talk to the police without me," and slipped out of the room.

Montoya and Harley went out into the hall, where Pam was sitting on a wooden bench, looking a bit prim but exhausted. Her back was straight, but the clothes Thomas had brought her were mismatched and too small for her. Harley found the overall effect incredibly endearing.

When she saw them coming, Pam stood and joined them. "Are we allowed to leave?" she said, automatically reaching for Harley's hand.

"Of course. You're free to go," said Montoya. "But please don't leave town – you're material witnesses in an active homicide investigation. We might need to call you in." Pam and Harley both nodded, and Harley managed a wobbly smile.

"And Harley," Montoya continued, "I'll be giving you a call about that other thing you mentioned." She headed to her desk. Bullock met her there.

"How'd it go with the blonde?" he said gruffly.

"Her name's Harley," Montoya corrected him automatically. "And her story was consistent. My gut says she's telling the truth." She sat down at her desk, started trying to sort through the paperwork. "How did your interview go?" she asked.

Bullock sank into his chair with a sigh. "She answered my questions. Nothing more, nothing less. Simple answers, didn't embellish. Looked me right in the eye the whole time. You ask me, she's a total ice queen."

Montoya looked over at Harley and Pam as they left the station. They were still holding hands, and Pam's thumb traced little reassuring circles on Harley's wrist. "And you ask _me_ , Harv," she said, "you're an asshole. Now let's get to work."

Harley and Pam took a cab back to Harley's place, tacitly agreeing to steer clear of the house. As soon as Harley unlocked the door of the apartment, Daffodil ran over and urgently "Eep!"ed at them.

"Aw, baby!" Harley said, scooping Daffodil up in her arms and cradling her in the crook of her neck. "I'm so, so glad you hid in the bathroom when that mean man came," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes as she rocked the kitten gently.

Pam filled Daffodil's dish, got her some water, and then came over to the two of them. She kissed the purring kitten's round little head, and when she felt tears in Daffodil's fur, she wrapped her arms around Harley tight.

Harley sniffled a little and looked up into Pam's eyes. She smiled sadly and said, "After last night, this wasn't how I pictured today going."

"I don't think anyone could have anticipated today," Pam said softly, running her fingers up and down Harley's back. Daffodil squirmed between them, so Harley put her down, then snuggled into Pam's arms.

Nestled against Pam's chest, Harley went on: "I guess I thought we'd be waking up here together every morning for the near future." She curled the fingers of one hand into the front of Pam's shirt, which was actually Harley's shirt.

"Maybe we will be," said Pam. When Harley snorted, a hollow little sound against Pam's collarbone, Pam said, "If you still decide to talk to the police about . . . everything, maybe you'll just get probation or something."

Harley shrugged a little. "Maybe," she said. Then she pulled back again, looked Pam in the eye again, bit her lip in an adorably nervous way. "Speaking of surprises . . . that wasn't exactly how I pictured finding out that you're apparently in love with me?"

Her tone was equal parts shy and teasing, and her eyes were tentatively hopeful.

Pam blushed until her face matched her hair, and that made Harley giggle. "Oh yeah, you're totally in love with me," she said, grinning, trailing the fingers of one hand up Pam's arm now. "You love me, you love me, you –"

Then she stopped suddenly, looking like a cartoon character who'd just had a piano dropped on her head. Harley's fingers tightened almost painfully on Pam's upper arm, and her eyes bored into her. "You were going to take a bullet for me," she whispered.

Pam swallowed. "Well . . . yeah," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. (Which to her, it was.)

Harley seemed to realize how hard she was clenching Pam's arm and quickly released it, rubbing at it lightly with her fingertips. "You never answered me in the ambulance," she said in a low voice.

"Hmm?" Pam said, distracted by how Harley was looking up at her now, eyes suddenly dark with intent.

"I said," Harley began, now gently walking forward, maneuvering Pam backwards toward the bedroom, "that you never answered my question in the ambulance."

"Oh," squeaked Pam, realization now dawning. "That."

"Yes," said Harley, still guiding her backwards, "That."

"Could you repeat the question?" Pam breathed.

Harley pretended to think about it. "I believe it was, 'Is it weird that I'm super wet for you right now?'" she purred, and Pam's breath caught. "So . . . was it weird at the time?"

"Probably," Pam said, as the backs of her knees bumped against the bed.

"And . . . is it weird now?" Harley said, dragging her fingernails up Pam's back over her shirt, raking her eyes over Pam's body.

"Probably," Pam said with a gulp.

"Does that bother you?" Harley said, capturing her eyes in a heated gaze.

Pam said, "Not even a little bit."

And Harley pounced.


	33. Chapter 33

**Warning: This chapter is like 100% Harley/Ivy lovin'.**

 **Skip it if you're not into that.**

 **Enjoy it if you are.**

 **And remember: these two have been through a lot in a really short time, and because of that, things between them might be a little intense.**

"You are making me lose my damn mind," Pam growled right in Harley's ear.

"Good," Harley said, "because this outfit of yours is making me lose mine." Then she turned her attention back to Pam's neck.

"It's – ah! – your outfit," Pam said, but this time Harley ignored her and sucked harder.

Somehow, Harley had gotten them both onto the bed, through some combination of pouncing and shimmying and gymnastics moves that Pam still couldn't quite wrap her mind around. So instead, she threw her head back, giving Harley better access to maul the smooth, tan skin of her neck.

"Wait," she gasped, and Harley looked up at her. She looked a little annoyed at the interruption, and for some reason Pam found that arousing. "Should-should we shower first?"

"Did you clean up at the police station?" Harley said brusquely. Pam nodded. "Good enough for me," said Harley, and she abandoned Pam's neck to capture her lips instead.

Their first time together (well, their first _night_ together, which was technically only last night and had included several times) had been explosive, a release after months of slow-building tension. Pam had naturally fallen into a more controlling role, seducing Harley and deliberately driving them both to ecstasy.

This was not deliberate. This was uncontrolled, almost . . . desperate.

Because this time, it was Harley's show.

And god, Pam would give her anything she wanted.

They both still had all their clothes on. Pam's more generous chest threatened to spill out of one of Harley's t-shirts, and a too-small pair of shorts was increasing the pressure on her most sensitive area.

Harley was wrapped so tightly around Pam that she could feel every inch of her, sliding their bodies together faster and faster. Harley's tongue slid in and out of Pam's mouth lewdly, thrusting and then pulling back, over and over, leaving Pam desperately leaning up for more each time she retreated. Her smaller breasts felt so tight and hot against Pam's full breasts, and even through two shirts and one bra, Pam swore she could feel the hard nubs of their nipples rubbing together with each of Harley's thrusts.

Harley's thighs straddled Pam's, and Harley had also bent her knees and slid her calves below Pam's, which meant their legs were completely intertwined, their hips pressed so close together as Harley pulsed against her, the button of Harley's shorts about two seconds away from bringing Pam over the edge.

Suddenly, Harley shifted, yanking Pam up by the front of her shirt so that she was sitting up, with Harley straddling her lap on her knees. "Did I mention that I like you in my clothes?" she said, tilting her head to one side and idly tracing a fingertip along the neckline of Pam's shirt, from her shoulder down to the swell of one breast.

"Y-yes, I think so," Pam stuttered.

"Mmm," Harley hummed. Then she slipped more fingers under the neckline and pulled down suddenly, catching both the shirt and Pam's bra so that one breast was exposed. It took Pam by surprise, and she gasped. Harley kept holding the shirt down with her fingers and slid her thumb up to brush over the exposed nipple, watching as the motion made Pam's nipple harden after a couple of strokes.

Then she dragged her eyes up to meet Pam's, who was watching her while worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Harley quirked an eyebrow at her, and the effect would have been playful if the look in her eyes weren't so hungry. "Wanna get naked?" she said.

"God, yes," Pam whispered, and she reached for Harley's shirt and yanked it upward. Harley lifted her arms so they could tug the shirt free, and Pam instinctively nuzzled against her bare breasts. Then Harley tugged Pam's shirt up and off, pausing for a second to squeeze her bra-clad breasts before reaching around to undo the clasp and throw her bra to the side.

Pam wrapped her arms around Harley and held her tight, and Harley dipped her head down to kiss Pam wetly, thoroughly, as she rocked against her and their naked breasts slid against one another. They were both panting when Harley pulled back and said, "More naked. Wait, nakeder?" She squinted adorably until Pam pushed her backwards on the bed and said, "Most nakedest. Now."

They both fumbled out of their shorts, shoved their panties down, threw it all on the floor. They faced each other on the bed, a few inches apart, both of them straight up on their knees.

Pam saw Harley's next move coming a mile off, and when Harley dove at her, Pam rolled them both so that she ended up on top, their naked bodies closer than they'd ever been before, chests flush together and one of Pam's legs between Harley's upper thighs.

"Got you," Pam whispered, before leaning down and teasing Harley's mouth, just grazing their lips together before pulling back, over and over again. Harley groaned in frustration, closing her eyes.

"Hey Red," she said in between kisses, "can you move your legs? I'm worried that the one in between my thighs is going to make me go off like a rocket, and I don't want to come yet."

Pam shifted so that she was straddling Harley, lying directly on top of her now. She spread her legs a little and rolled her hips forward, and for the first time ever their naked centers slid together, almost on accident. Harley's eyes snapped open and met Pam's in a look of shock that Pam was sure was mirrored on her own face. "Do that again," she begged, and Pam did, and it felt even better the second time.

Which is why it took Pam completely by surprise when Harley leaned up to plant a quick kiss on her lips, then winked, said "BRB," and somehow slid right down underneath Pam to . . . oh. "Oh, Harley," she said in a husky whisper, frozen in place as she felt the first lick of Harley's tongue underneath her slit.

Harley's fingers dug into her hips, then slid around to her ass. "Mmm," Harley moaned, "this is the best thing _ever_." She licked almost tentatively against Pam's wet center, not pushing her tongue in, just exploring around the outside. Then she slid up to lap at Pam's clit, and seriously Pam was about to explode any second.

"Come here," Harley whispered, tugging rhythmically at Pam's hips until she relaxed and let herself go, moving lower, rocking against Harley's face, her eager tongue. She kept rocking back and forth as Harley sucked lightly on her clit, then slid one index finger around the curve of Pam's ass and into her waiting wetness from behind.

Pam gasped, riding Harley's face more urgently, and Harley pumped her finger in and out, in and out, as she took Pam apart with her tongue. Then Harley gently slid her other index finger in, from the other side, and the unexpected sensation sent a shockwave through Pam. She groaned, fucking herself desperately now against Harley's face, her fingers, until finally the sensation overtook her and she threw her head back, her long red hair spilling down her back in waves, crying out Harley's name again and again as she came hard.

Then she fell, lunging forward a little so she would clear Harley, face down, completely spent. Harley wriggled out from under her and crawled up to snuggle beside her, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Pam threw an arm over her and turned her head to face her – that was about all she could manage at the moment.

"Can we do that every day, forever?" Harley whispered, her eyes shining.

Pam managed half a smile. "Or at least every time I borrow your clothes."

Harley moved closer, until their noses touched. "Love you," she whispered.

"Oh, you're such a cheeseball," Pam said (making Harley giggle yet again). "But . . . I love you too."

Then Harley's eyes widened. "I was right!" she whispered almost reverently, clapping a hand to her mouth. Pam just quirked an eyebrow at her and waited. Harley stroked her fingertips along the side of Pam's face and said, "Daffodil's hairs really _do_ grant wishes!"

Pam thought back to that day, when the tension was simmering between them and Harley had seductively plucked a hair off her dress. "Harley," she said quietly. "Did you wish that I would fall in love with you?"

She was surprised when instead of confirming, Harley blushed beet red, sat up, and stammered, "Um . . . sure! Because that is a thing that happened today which I might have wished for previously! Hey, who wants to order a pizza?"

Pam looked at her, confused. Then, as Harley scooted off the bed, Pam's own moment of realization dawned, and she narrowed her eyes. "Harley . . . did you wish that I would _sit on your face?_ "

The only response was Harley's uncontrollable laughter as she went bouncing off down the hall, still naked, to find her cell phone and call the pizza guy.


	34. Chapter 34

Warnings: Extreme cheesiness AND extreme smut.

You have been warned :)

Pam looked out the window of the small apartment. The sun was setting, and in these early days of fall the trees looked like they were on fire.

"Pretty," Harley said quietly, coming up and hugging Pam from behind. She reached around to hand her a mug of tea, and Pam squeezed her hand in thanks before taking a careful sip. "Mmm, that's good, Harl – what is that?"

"Gingerbread," said Harley, resting her cheek against the flat of Pam's shoulder blade, snuggling her arms around Pam's waist. "It's a little early in the season, but they had it out already so I had to try it."

Pam smiled (because of course, out of every flavor of tea, Harley would go for something sweet and quirky like gingerbread), but she stayed quiet. "Whatcha thinking about?" Harley said, nuzzling gently between Pam's shoulder blades.

The redhead took another sip. "Well," she said, "I was thinking about the semester starting next week. And how this wasn't exactly the way I envisioned my summer going." She thought, or maybe she imagined, that she could feel Harley droop a little against her back, and she set the mug on the windowsill before gently turning around and pulling Harley into her arms.

They stood there for a minute, Pam's arms wrapped around Harley's shoulders and the shorter woman's arms snug around her waist. "Your hair smells like bubble gum," Pam murmured against the top of her head.

"I think that's just my natural smell," Harley said into Pam's collarbone, making her smile again.

Pam sighed. "You just made me smile twice in 30 seconds," she said. "And . . . and that's essentially my point." She cleared her throat. "This wasn't how I envisioned my summer going – but even with _everything_ that happened, I wouldn't change a thing if it meant I would end up right here with you."

Harley sniffled against her, and Pam put two fingers beneath her chin, gently tilting her face up until their eyes met. She kissed the tears that sparkled in one eye, and then the other, and then planted a tender kiss on Harley's lips.

And they just stood there for a while, silently holding one another as the sun set, until Harley yawned, and Pam smiled, and they went to bed.

In the morning, Pam woke up first, as usual. She stretched a little and rolled over to look at Harley, who was sprawled out on her back, one hand flung over her head, one knee bent up like a flamingo. Pam leaned on her arm and just watched her for a while. Even in her sleep, Harley seemed to go through more emotions in 5 minutes than Pam did in a month.

Then Harley let out a little sigh, and in Pam's mind it was instantly connected to all the other times she'd heard her sigh like that, and a jolt ran through her straight to her core. She slipped a hand just under the edge of Harley's t-shirt and caressed the warm, soft skin of her hip lightly with her fingertips.

Harley let out another sigh, this one more longing than the first, and straightened her bent leg so both legs were straight.

Pam shifted so she was leaning over Harley, her elbows bracketing Harley's hips, and snuck the fingertips of each hand just below the band of her boxers. She inched the fabric down gradually, sliding her hands around and under to sneak it down in the back as well, then stopped when the top of Harley's boxers was around her upper thighs.

Now she could see the neatly trimmed patch of blonde hair covering Harley's mound, and she could just barely make out the top of Harley's lower lips.

Pam snuck a peek up at Harley. Her face was relaxed, her eyes closed.

She looked peaceful.

 _Not for long_ , Pam thought wickedly as she bent her head, slipping her tongue into the small gap between Harley's boxers and her center, lapping gently at the top of her mound. She could just barely reach Harley's nub with the tip of her tongue, and she swept her tongue across it at a leisurely pace.

Harley moaned a little in her sleep, and it made Pam feel ravenous, like always. She licked deeper, more vigorously, relishing Harley's taste, the growing scent of her arousal. God, she wanted to make her feel good, today and every day. Sex had never been like this for her before, never meant so much. There had always been some sort of . . . imbalance. Not with Harley.

Pam drew a tight figure eight with her tongue, and Harley shuddered, waking up slowly. "Mmm," she said in a sleepy rumble. "Who's there?"

That earned her a baleful glare from the redhead. "Aw, why'd ya stop?" Harley said, eyes still closed. "Wait – are you giving me a look right now?"

Since Harley never wore a bra to bed, Pam could see her nipples hardening through her soft t-shirt. "Take your shirt off," she said in a gravelly voice, and now Harley's eyes shot open, and she raised an eyebrow and grinned before whipping her shirt off in one fluid motion. "Yes, ma'am," she said cheekily.

Pam crawled above Harley on all fours now, taking her time, fixing her with a stare that said _Mine_. She stopped when her head was even with Harley's naked, pert breasts, then dipped down to run just the tip of her tongue around one erect nipple.

"More," Harley breathed.

"Oh, you mean like this?" Pam said, and she spread her lips wide against Harley's breast and sucked hard, mercilessly, taking in as much of the smooth flesh as she could, flicking her tongue against Harley's nipple until she heard her moan, felt a hand gripping the back of her head and pulling her closer. She indulged her for a second, scraping her teeth lightly over the wet nub, then pushed back against Harley's hand and pulled her head back, tugging on Harley's nipple until it slid free with a wet sound.

Pam leaned back, panting hard. She loved seeing that darker blue color in Harley's eyes as they clouded over with lust, loved knowing that only she got to make her feel that way. She still knelt over her on all fours, and now she raked her eyes all the way down Harley's body and back up again. Her hair was a disheveled mess of bed head, one of her nipples was red and glistening, and her boxers were still yanked down around her upper thighs. Pam could not think of a more beautiful sight to wake up to. She told Harley so, and the other woman groaned beneath her, bucking her hips almost desperately, begging for Pam to take her.

So she did.

Pam took advantage of her position and Harley's semi-trapped legs, suddenly rolling her onto her stomach with Pam still crouched above her. She tugged Harley's wrists above her head and pushed them down into the mattress with one hand, then leaned down and whispered in her ear, "What do you need?"

Harley whimpered, turning her face to the side so she could be heard. "I-I need you inside me _now_ ," she begged. Pam growled a little and released Harley's wrists, grazing her teeth down along the back of her neck as she trailed slender fingers down her spine.

She smiled her feral smile when she saw how the other woman's hips were pulsing against the bed. "Be still," she said in a low voice, and Harley whimpered again but obeyed.

Pam sat up and back now, knees spread on either side of Harley's thighs. She kept trailing her fingers slowly down along Harley's spine, dragging her nails lightly so that parallel pink marks appeared, then circling her fingertips lazily in the dip right above Harley's smooth cheeks.

Then she slid one finger so lightly along Harley's cleft, not pushing in, biting back a groan when she had to angle her wrist to slip it between Harley's ass and the hem of her boxers, which were still keeping her legs nice and trapped.

The gap was so tight that Pam could just barely reach Harley's center with the pad of one finger. She bit her lip, hearing Harley gasp at the light contact, and swirled her finger around in little circles. "Mmm, feels so good," Harley moaned, and Pam pushed in just a little farther, teasing, moving her fingertip slowly in and out. It was obvious how aroused Harley was – Pam's finger was slick in no time, and soon she was pumping it in and out all the way.

"God, you feel so tight like this," Pam said roughly, watching her finger move in and out. Harley was breathing heavily now, starting to clench Pam's finger with each thrust. Pam increased the pace, leaning down again to whisper, "Do you like having me inside you?"

"Want you – inside me – all the time," Harley managed to pant out. Pam couldn't stop herself from sinking her teeth into the back of Harley's shoulder at that before leaning back to watch again. She was pumping in and out of her fast now, Harley's body shaking with every swipe of her finger, and when Pam said, "Do you want to come for me now?" Harley wailed out a long "Yessss" and shuddered with a rush of wetness, her walls pulsing around Pam's finger.

Pam kept her finger inside her until Harley stopped moving, then slowly pulled it out, pulled Harley's boxers up, and flopped over onto her back. "Holy shit," Harley muttered into the pillow beside her, and Pam chuckled.

Harley rolled over to face her, snuggling into Pam's side, trailing her fingers up and down Pam's arm. "You're . . . so amazing at that," she said, still breathless, sounding awed.

Pam snorted. "If any of the guys I slept with heard you say that –" she started, and then trailed off awkwardly when she remembered that one of those guys was Harley's father.

The younger woman wasn't thinking about that at the moment though. "Yeah – you told me once that, how did you put it? The 'wifely duties' weren't your favorite part or something. So why . . ." and now _she_ trailed off, feeling shy.

"Why do I jump your bones all the time?" Pam said, so seriously that Harley giggled. Pam turned on her side so they were facing each other, and Harley impulsively kissed her on the nose, whispering something that sounded suspiciously like _freckles_. "I think . . . I think I just like making you feel good," she said haltingly. "And we danced around each other for so long, and things sort of built up, and since what happened yesterday things have felt even _more_ intense – you know?" Harley nodded, and Pam went on: "I guess I just want to make the most of the time we have together."

Harley smiled, still looking content from her orgasm. "Why do you always do stuff to me?" she asked curiously.

Pam chewed the inside of her mouth in thought. "Does it feel . . . unbalanced?" she finally said.

"Ha! No, I love it!" said Harley, shoving her a little. "But it feels sorta unfair to you."

The redhead rolled onto her back, pulling Harley with her so she was snuggled half on top of her. "I guess in all my other relationships, it did feel unbalanced to me – like I was doing it for the other person. But when I see how turned on you get, how much you crave being with me, it actually makes _me_ feel good. And – even if I do more stuff to you in purely numeric terms, I've never felt more perfectly matched."

Harley sighed against her chest. "Only you could make me feel all mushy with the words 'purely numeric terms,'" she murmured.

Pam kissed the top of her head, held her close for a minute. Then she said, "Harley? I think I'm going to go out to the house this afternoon."

She felt Harley stiffen in her arms, but then she nodded.

It was time to deal with reality.


	35. Chapter 35

Later that afternoon, Harley was fiddling with the coffeemaker as Pam got ready to drive out to the house. She tilted her head up for a kiss on Pam's way out but stayed uncharacteristically quiet.

As Pam pulled the Prius into the driveway and cut the engine, she thought about Rick. Her . . . husband (she forced herself to acknowledge reality) was a fugitive from the law, wanted for murder. Why had he run, instead of staying and talking to the police? Surely the situation could be considered a justifiable homicide.

Pam shook her head to clear it, stepped out of the car, and climbed the front steps. But there was a brand-new lock on the front door, and her key didn't work.

She stood on the porch, for once unsure of her next move. Her mind wandered to the time she'd impulsively followed Harley outside after their first disastrous dinner in this house. Pam could still see the way the light had shone on her blonde pigtails, could hear the rumble of her motorcycle . . . a rumble that got steadily louder now, until Pam was snapped out of her memories by the sight of actual Harley on her actual motorcycle.

Pam crossed her arms, leaned against a column with a small smile on her face, and waited. Harley pulled into the yard and jumped off the bike almost before it had come to a stop. She marched right up to Pam, yanking off her helmet and running a hand absently through tangled blonde locks as she climbed the steps and faced her.

"Hi," said Harley, breathless and wide-eyed, fidgeting with the helmet in her hands.

"Hi," said Pam, still smiling.

"Um, I thought I should come," Harley said, looking down at the porch. "Because this is hard for me, but it's gotta be super hard for you too, and, you know . . . I'm here for you." She looked up at Pam then, scrunching her nose in such a Harley-esque way that the redhead straightened up, took the helmet and tossed it into the bushes, and pulled Harley into her arms. "You're not supposed to throw safety equipment like that," Harley said, her voice muffled, and Pam felt the shorter woman grin against her collarbone.

They pulled back after a minute. Harley leaned up to ghost a quick kiss on the tip of Pam's nose and said, "So, should we get your stuff?"

"We're locked out of the house," Pam said.

Harley took the key and tried it for herself. "Hmm, that's weird. I'll go try around back." She gave Pam a squeeze and a grin on her way off the porch. Pam cupped her hands against the front window, trying to peer inside.

A few seconds later, Harley called, "Pam-a-lamb? I think you should come back here."

When Pam rounded the corner of the house, she couldn't suppress a gasp. All of her belongings – her furniture, her clothes, everything – were piled in the back yard. Her eyes felt hot suddenly, and she blinked a few times.

Harley took her hand, looking at her uncertainly until, after a long moment, Pam cleared her throat. "Well . . . at least he didn't burn them."

Harley let out a snort of laughter, then quickly clapped her free hand over her mouth. She snuck a sideways glance at Pam, who was resolutely _not_ meeting her eyes. Pam's shoulders were shaking, and for a second Harley thought that she was crying – but then she recognized the unmistakable signs of suppressed laughter, and then Pam lost it, and then Harley lost it, and they stood there in the back yard laughing uncontrollably, surrounded by the relics of Pam's former life.

Naturally, Pam was the first to recover. "Well," she said, wiping her eyes, "should we load some of this crap into the Prius?"

"Why, Ms. Isley," drawled Harley, "I do declare you're speaking my language now."

Pam gathered an armload of dresses, muttered out of habit, "It's Dr. Isley."

Harley grabbed an end table and started carrying it out front to the car. "Lawdamercy, a lady doctor?! What's become of society today?"

Somehow, she managed to dance away before Pam's light ankle kick could land.

They loaded up the belongings Pam wanted to keep – she would arrange a donation pickup for the rest tomorrow – and leaned against the car, watching the sun set.

Harley pulled an envelope out of her jacket and said, "Oh! I almost forgot! This was in the mailbox." She handed it to Pam, who opened it neatly along one edge and pulled out a cashier's check.

"He – he must have sold the house and this is my half of the proceeds," Pam said, stunned.

Then she burst into huge, gulping sobs – what Harley would call "ugly crying" on anyone but Pam, who somehow still managed to look gorgeous. Harley nestled up against her side with her arms around Pam's waist, holding her tight, her face against Pam's neck.

Eventually, Pam's sobs quieted, and she drew a shuddering breath. "So," said Harley, "less than you were expecting for the house, huh?"

Pam let out a sobby kind of chuckle at that. "Well," she said, "it's not a lot, but it's something – we hadn't had time to build much equity, and – oh shut up, I know you were kidding!" because of course, Harley was giggling against her shoulder now. Then she sighed. "I guess this is his way of making a clean break, since the house was in both of our names. It's probably more than I deserve."

"Okay," said Harley, "we'll come back to _that_ little comment in a minute – but how _did_ he sell the house so fast? And without your involvement?"

Pam shrugged. "He probably knows a guy," she said.

They were still leaning against the car, Harley curled against Pam's side. Now she stepped around to face Pam head on, putting one hand on Pam's hip and using the other to gently tilt her head up from where she slumped. "Hey," Harley said gently. "What's going on in there? Are you scientific-method-ing this?"

"Not exactly," said Pam. "Just processing my emotions like – what did you call me? – a cyborg, I guess." Harley wrinkled her nose, looking sheepish, and Pam pulled her in close.

"You can talk to me," Harley said.

"It's just – _this_ is what's left of my marriage," said Pam, knocking a hand against the car window. "This is a lot to handle all at once – finding out that I'm the opposite of the perfect wife I always thought I should be, falling for you, getting kidnapped and seeing a man murdered right in front of us . . ." Harley winced at that, and Pam trailed her fingers up and down her back.

Then she stopped suddenly. "Jesus, Harley! I'm so sorry!"

"Hmm?" Harley said, not moving from where she was nestled against Pam's chest.

Pam sighed. "Here I am, talking about the end of my marriage – and this is your _father_ we're talking about."

"Was," Harley mumbled, and Pam just held her tighter. She didn't know what to say to that.

After a minute, Harley said, "We did this all wrong, didn't we?"

"Mm, probably," Pam said. "I hear there are even couples who skip the step altogether where one of them marries the other one's father."

Harley huffed out a dry chuckle at that, then said, "You were right before. These last few days have given us an _insane_ amount to handle." Then she stepped back and looked Pam in the eyes. "We haven't actually talked about this during our –" she squinted, doing the mental math – "54-hour courtship? But you're moving in with me, right?"

"Is that o–"

"YES!" Harley squealed, planting a wet kiss on her. She'd brightened almost instantly, and Pam didn't know whether to be impressed by her resilience or concerned about her denial. "Man, talk about U-Hauling!"

"And what exactly _do_ you know about U-Hauling?" Pam said playfully, straightening up now and settling her arms more solidly around Harley's waist.

"Ooh, are we having the 'have you been with a woman before?' talk?" said Harley. She nudged closer to Pam, pressing her against the car with her hips. "Because actually, no, I hadn't. But the first time I saw you, BAM! – all of a sudden, it didn't matter if you were man, woman, or . . . vegetable. It was all over for me."

"Vegetable?" said Pam, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, shut up, you know what I mean!" Harley said mock indignantly. She took a step back. "Now can we go home already? We need to start cleaning."

"Why?" Pam said as she opened the car door.

"Because," said Harley, bouncing off to retrieve her helmet from the bushes – "we're throwing a party!"


	36. P4RTY!

**Our two favorite girls throw a party!**

 **With fluff and surprises and WHY DID I MAKE KATE KANE SO AWKWARD OMG**

"Um – maybe because you look like a flight attendant?"

"Wha – this is a very nice button-down blouse!" Pam said, one hand on her hip.

Harley walked over to her, grinning, and patted her on the cheek. "And _that_ , my beautiful Dr. Isley, is exactly why you need to change your outfit. Because you actually just said the word _blouse_."

It was 30 minutes before their guests were supposed to arrive, and Pam wanted everything to be – oh, fuck it, she wanted everything to be perfect. Harley had finally talked her into throwing a party at their small apartment, although cooler heads (Pam's) had prevailed and they'd at least postponed it until the next weekend.

Harley insisted that this was an important step for them, and Pam supposed there was some merit in that. It just felt like such a big step, and so soon. She would have preferred more time to discover who they were as a couple in their own little bubble, without having to deal with other people.

But then, most of Pam's plans didn't involve other people, and most of Harley's did.

So now the crudités were cut, the white wine was chilled, and two trays of _hors d'oeuvres_ were due to come out of the oven any minute now. Pam just needed to take out her curlers, touch up her makeup . . . and apparently, change her entire outfit.

"What are _you_ going to wear?" she huffed.

Harley shrugged and snagged a carrot. "This," she said with a crunch and a grin, hopping up on the kitchen counter and swinging her feet.

"Your Ramones t-shirt and jeans?" Pam said.

"Look," said Harley, gesturing with the carrot, "these people know me. They know I wear t-shirts and jeans. The invitations didn't specify black tie only." She beckoned, and Pam came closer, nestling between Harley's legs and resting her hands on her thighs.

"That's because the invitations were a text message from you that said P-4-R-T-Y with five exclamation points," Pam grumbled without any real heat.

"Yeah!" said Harley. "And everyone RSVP'ed yes!" She reached over and got herself a drink of water from the sink so she wouldn't spit carrots on Pam, then leaned her forehead against Pam's, looking into her eyes very seriously, and said: "I know you're going all _Good Housekeeping_ on me right now. And I love you for it. How about this: I will go change into something less comfortable if you promise to do the exact opposite."

"Deal," Pam said, leaning back and starting to tug Harley's t-shirt over her head. Harley slid out of it, gliding against Pam as she got down from the counter. She whispered against Pam's neck, "How long do we have again?"

"Twenty-eight minutes," said Pam with a little groan. "But Harley, my curlers –"

"Take them out on the way!" Harley called back, already halfway to the bedroom.

Pam started after her, pulling curlers out and kicking off her pumps as she went.

Then she popped back into the kitchen, took the _hors d'oeuvres_ out of the oven, and finally joined Harley in the bedroom.

Thirty-two minutes later, their door buzzed for the first time. "I'll get it!" Harley said, running over to buzz them in. She had quickly thrown on a black skirt, and now she pulled Pam's green tank top on over it.

"It's probably some of your friends anyway," said Pam, tugging on her own (dressy) jeans and a casual peasant top that Harley insisted she looked hot in, trying and failing to tame her now wild red curls.

"Babe, we talked about this," Harley said, coming over to help smooth her hair down. "You only have one friend."

"That's not helpful at all!" Pam scoffed. "And I have two friends, thank you very much."

Harley looked at her, biting back a grin. "You can't count _me_."

"Fine, I have one friend," Pam said. "Happy?"

"So happy," Harley said, not bothering to hide her grin anymore. She stood on tiptoe to kiss Pam's nose just as there was a knock on the door.

"Bud! Louise!" Harley exclaimed as she threw the door open, hugging each of them in turn.

"Harley, sweetie, are you doing okay?" said Louise, holding onto her tightly.

"I'm good," said Harley. "Really." She took a deep breath and brought them both into the apartment. "Bud, Louise – I'd like you to meet Pam."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," said Pam, sweeping over to them, in her element now. "I've heard so much about you. Oh – is that a cabernet? Let's not waste any time getting this bad boy open."

Harley grinned, watching her girl charm them both. Talking to people was in Harley's blood, she couldn't _not_ do it, but watching Pam in action was like seeing a diver slip on a wetsuit – it was external, but the motions were practiced and sure, an adaptation that enabled them to survive in uncomfortable conditions.

Several more people arrived in quick succession: Zatanna (who whispered "Damn, Harley, nice work!" when she got a glimpse of Pam), Thomas (who gathered each of them up in a bear hug), and Harley's friend Barbara from the coffee shop.

Harley introduced Barbara to Pam as "the second-smartest woman I know," then whispered "Sorry, Babs!"

"Hey, I'll take second place. I'm just glad your apartment building actually has an elevator this time," Barbara said, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses. "Actually, Pam and I have met before – at the coffee shop. Green tea, right?" Pam nodded, smiling, and Harley whacked herself on the forehead for forgetting.

There was another knock at the door, and Pam said, "I'll get it this time." She opened it to find Officer Montoya standing there.

"Good evening, Dr. Isley. We got a noise complaint regarding this address," Montoya said.

As Pam started to stammer, they heard Harley shout, "Renee! I'm so glad you could make it!" She ran over and hugged the surprised officer.

"Man, Harley, you ruined my little moment of cop humor," said Montoya.

"Ah, noise complaint gag?" Harley said. Montoya nodded, and Harley looked a little sheepish. "My bad. I would never ruin anyone's joke on purpose."

"Yes, we know that," Pam said dryly. "Officer Montoya, won't you come in?" When Montoya was inside, she closed the door and hissed at Harley, "You invited the officer who's investigating a homicide where we're material witnesses _to a party?_ "

"Don't worry, Pam-a-lamb, I'm like 90% sure it's legal," Harley waved her off. "I asked my lawyer and he didn't know of a law against it."

"Harley – are you still calling Selina's lawyer for random legal advice?" said Pam, caught halfway between surprise and amusement.

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure he's doing it for free," Harley said. "Wait – do you think he's charging Selina?"

Pam just shook her head and walked away, smiling despite herself.

The last person to arrive was Kate, the EMT. Harley greeted her exuberantly ("My second-favorite redhead!") and then introduced her around.

When she saw Montoya, Kate blushed fiercely and Montoya did an actual spit take with her beer. "Wait – so you invited one of the cops who interviewed you _and_ one of the EMTs who drove you to the police station?" Montoya said when she'd stopped coughing.

She happened to be looking at Pam, who raised an eyebrow and said, "Pssh, don't look at me – I don't even know when she had time to get your numbers."

"First time a patient ever invited me over," said Kate. "But I'm always up for a P-4-R-T-Y!"

"Kate Kane, you are quickly moving up the redhead charts," Harley said in a stage whisper, until Pam grabbed her and whispered something in her ear.

"Update, everyone: Pamela Isley is still Redhead Numero Uno!" Harley announced, and Pam blushed.

All things considered, the night ended up being . . . fun. Bud and Louise had to leave early, six kids and all, but the rest of them ended up staying until the wee hours of the morning, drinking and talking. It was the most fun Pam had had in a long time.

But the highlight came about halfway through, when there was one last buzz from downstairs.

"I'll get it!" Harley yelled, jumping up suddenly from where she was draped over Pam's lap on the loveseat.

Pam was facing away from the door, but the second she heard that familiar voice say, "Harley, sweetie, we really need to talk about how lawyers work," she whirled around.

"Kitty?!" Pam exclaimed.

"Hello, Ivy," said Selina, smiling as widely as Pam had ever seen. Pam rushed over and practically tackled her. "What – how –" she stammered, and Selina winked in Harley's direction.

"Well, you do only have the one friend, and it just seemed fair –" Harley began, but she was cut off when Pam stopped hugging Selina and pulled Harley into a deep kiss.

"Saw that coming," Thomas said.

"Saw it coming first," Barbara said.

"Saw it in the back of an ambulance once," Kate said, and everyone looked impressed but Montoya, who rolled her eyes at the memory.

"Anybody else feel like kissing their stepmother?" Selina said loudly. "No one? All right then, if you two are quite finished, you can show me where the – oh, they're not even stopping. You there, Muscles, come and mix me a drink, there's a darling."

Thomas obediently got up and followed Selina to the kitchen. As he fixed her drink, she made a bit of a show of touching his biceps and _rowr_ ing, which of course made him blush.

Kate slipped into Thomas's now vacant spot on the loveseat, clutching her glass of wine rather tightly and scooting as close to the edge as possible. Montoya was on the other cushion of the loveseat, and Barbara was in her wheelchair on Kate's other side.

"So, Barbara, you work at a coffee shop?" Kate said, turning to her slightly. One of her feet slipped as she turned, and when she tried to course correct she ended up sloshing her wine backwards – all over Montoya.

"Shit!" Kate exclaimed, jumping up and clapping a hand to her mouth. Barbara grabbed a napkin from the side table and tossed it to Montoya. "Harley!" she called, and Harley pulled back from where she was still liplocked with Pam against the front door.

"Huh?" she said.

"Towel!" said Barbara. "We have a red wine incident over here."

But the two hostesses hadn't even disentangled themselves when Selina calmly walked over, shook up a bottle of club soda, and proceeded to spray it all over Montoya, who was still sitting on the loveseat looking a bit stunned.

Selina said to her, "You – into the bathroom. The club soda should keep it from staining, but you'll want to get it washed out as soon as possible." She pointed at Pam, who was sheepishly patting her hair down and smoothing out her shirt. "You – find her some dry clothes to change into." She looked at Kate, who held the empty glass guiltily. "You – go help her in the bathroom."

The she tossed the bottle over to Thomas. "You – mix the rest of that with some cranberry juice and vodka, and pour it over ice."

They all scattered to comply with her orders. Selina stalked over to Thomas and patted his cheek. "You're such a good little puppy."

"Actually, I'm more of a cat man," he said good-naturedly, bending down to rub Daffodil behind the ears, and Selina grinned dangerously at that.

In the bathroom, Kate set her glass down on the sink, then found a towel and started dabbing desperately at Montoya's shirt. "Oh man – I'm so, so sorry!" she said, a little breathlessly. Montoya rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighed, and said, "Kate – it's fine. Really."

Kate kept wiping at the mess until Montoya gently grabbed her hand and held it between them. "Hey," she said, grinning. "It's cool. Seriously, I don't even like this shirt."

"We should wash it out," said Kate. She started to reach for the top button with her other hand, realized what she was about to do, and pulled her hand back so quickly that her elbow banged into the wine glass and smashed it against the wall.

"Shit!" said Kate, reaching instinctively for it and slicing her finger in the process. "Ow!" She stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked on it, praying that the floor would just open up and swallow her.

Montoya couldn't help grinning widely, seconds away from laughing out loud. "My, my," she said. "The best EMT in Ithaca is secretly a total spaz."

"Only with you," muttered Kate around her injured finger. Then she realized what she'd said and closed her eyes. "I give up," she sighed.

Pam opened the bathroom door just then, a pile of clothes in hand. "Are you okay?" she said, concerned. "I heard something break in here."

"We're fine," said Montoya, reaching for the clothes. "Although your wine glass has seen better days. Thank you for these." Pam nodded, glanced quickly between the two of them, and closed the door.

Montoya looked at Kate, who had stopped sucking on her finger. "Let me see it," she said.

"I'm fine," said Kate.

Montoya grabbed her hand and looked at the cut. "I'm an E-M-fucking-T," Kate snapped. "I know how to triage injuries."

"Well, you certainly put the 'E' in 'EMT,'" Montoya said with a grin. Kate glared at her but didn't pull her hand away.

"Why only with me?" Montoya said quietly.

"Um, what?" said Kate, her eyes widening.

"You said you're only a spaz around me," said Montoya, looking her straight in the eyes. She pulled Kate's hand a little closer. "Is it because . . . you're attracted to me?"

"Renee," whispered Kate.

"Call me Montoya," said Montoya. "And . . . call me tomorrow?"

"That was really smooth," Kate said with a grin. "And I will."

"Cool. Now get out of here so I can change." Kate left the bathroom, still smiling.

The rest of the party passed without incident or injury, and one by one the guests said their goodbyes until only Pam, Harley, and Selina were left.

"Well, girls," said Harley, throwing an arm over each of their shoulders, "I'd say this night was a success. Wouldn't you?" And the three of them grinned at one another, all of them feeling like they were exactly where they were meant to be.

The next morning, Harley woke up first for once. She was lying half on top of Pam, so it took almost no effort to lean up and plant a gentle kiss on her lips, a kiss that gradually got deeper and wetter until – "Goddamnit, STOP THAT!" Selina said crankily from Harley's other side. "It's bad enough that you two don't have the decency to have a guest bedroom. But that? With me on the edge over here, trying to get my beauty sleep? Just – no."

Harley giggled and only kissed Pam a few more times.


	37. Chapter 37

The Monday after the party, Harley's phone rang. When she saw LADY COP on the screen, she grinned and answered it. "What's up, Renee? Did you ever find your other shoe?"

"Harley, I'm afraid I'm calling in a professional capacity," Montoya said. "I've put this off as long as I could, but I need to ask you to come in and tell us what you know about the victim's business dealings."

Harley swallowed hard. "O-okay," she said. "When?"

"Can you come in this afternoon?" Montoya said. Harley nodded, then realized she probably couldn't hear it over the phone. "Sure," she said.

"Okay. See you around . . . 2?" said Montoya. "And, by the way – no. If you find that shoe, give me a shout, okay?"

Harley ended the call and stood there in the kitchen for a minute, drumming her fingers on the counter.

"Hey," said Pam, coming out of the bathroom and putting her second earring in. "I thought I might –" Then she saw Harley's face and stopped. "What's wrong? Was that bad news?"

Harley instinctively went to her, melted into her arms. "That was Renee – Officer Montoya, I guess. She wants me to come in this afternoon and talk about all that stuff from before."

"Ah," said Pam, kissing the top of her head. "What time do we need to be there?"

"You're coming with me?" Harley said, looking up at her, blue eyes wide.

Pam rolled her eyes a little and said, "Obviously." Then she remembered: "I was going to head over to my office on campus, check over everything one last time. Do you – would you like to come with me?" She twisted one of Harley's pigtails around one finger, smiling when Harley nodded.

"Let's go," Pam said, kissing Harley on the forehead before stepping away. Harley grabbed her wallet and followed Pam out the door. Just before it closed, Pam said, "Oh – did Montoya ever find her shoe?"

Pam's office was exactly as neat and organized as Harley had expected, and she grinned to herself as she wandered around. "Books and plants, huh?" she said.

"Pretty much my life right there," said Pam, a little sheepishly.

"Oh, I think you're a lot more than that," murmured Harley, half to herself. She didn't see Pam's answering blush because something on the desk caught her eye. "You have glasses?!" Harley exclaimed, whirling around with them in hand.

"I – ha ha," Pam stammered. "Funny story . . . um, yes. I do."

"That was a _hilarious_ story," Harley said, fixing her with a look. "Why didn't you tell me? Why don't you ever wear them around the apartment?"

"Well, they're just for reading," Pam said, "and –" she got quieter here – "they make me feel old."

"No, I don't think that's it," Harley said. "You're a 31-year-old with a PhD. You know you're not old." She took a step closer, tapping the glasses thoughtfully against her chin. "I think it's something else." Now she was in Pam's space, casually sliding one hand up around the back of her neck as she flipped the glasses open with the other. "I think . . . you don't like how you look in them." Pam looked off to the side, and Harley gently turned her head so they were facing each other straight on. "Put them on," she whispered, dangling the glasses from her hand.

"I don't have to do that," Pam said.

"Then sweetie, I might just be forced to conclude that you're . . . vain," Harley said with a shrug.

"Ugh, fine," said Pam, grabbing them and putting them on.

Harley took a step back. Her nostrils flared. "Good God, woman," she said in a low voice.

"Oh, come on," Pam said. "Is it really that bad?" She put a hand up to take the glasses off, and Harley stopped her, shaking her head.

"You've been holding out on me," she said, still in that low voice, sounding a little dazed. "Come here." Harley patted the back of Pam's desk chair and waited.

As Pam came over and sat down, looking at her suspiciously, Harley muttered something that sounded like, "Lookin' like Lily fuckin' Van Der Woodsen with those white glasses." Those words made no sense to Pam, so she ignored them.

Harley turned the chair around so Pam was facing her desk, then walked around behind the chair. "What are you doing back there, Harley?" Pam said. She heard the door lock click and clothes rustling, but Harley didn't respond.

Then she was suddenly back in Pam's field of view, standing on the other side of the desk, twirling a pigtail with one hand while the other rested on her hip, elbow bent. "Pam-a-lamb," she said in a low voice, "why dontcha tell me a little about your research?"

"Um, what?" Pam said, a little flustered. "My-my research?"

Harley nodded slowly, patiently, waiting for it to dawn on her beautiful clueless genius. When Pam just looked confused, Harley said, "Well, Professor? I'm waiting," and stepped closer to the desk, her hips swaying.

The redhead cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses (Harley's insides fluttered at that). "Okay, well, the most straightforward way of explaining it is that I'm attempting to successfully merge human DNA with plant DNA," Pam said.

"Why?" said Harley. She put both hands on the desk and leaned over – way over – grinning when she saw Pam's gaze dip downwards, the look in her eyes intensifying.

"There are several practical implications of this research," Pam said as Harley began carefully rearranging items on her desk, neatly piling folders and placing potted plants to either side. "First, I believe that merging human and plant DNA could lead to increased wellness within the human population. Having photosynthesis as a secondary source of energy would reduce our reliance on increasingly unhealthy mass-produced food sources."

Harley nodded sagely. She'd cleared a path down the middle of Pam's desk, and now she leaned all the way forward on her elbows until their faces were almost touching. "Fascinating, Dr. Isley," she said. "And the other implications . . .?"

"Well, erm," Pam stammered, "carbon dioxide absorption and oxygen production . . ."

"Mmm, yes, both good things," Harley murmured, crawling onto Pam's desk on all fours. Then she swung her legs around so she was sitting on the edge of the desk, legs swinging on either side of Pam's desk chair. "What other potential benefits of your research are there, Dr. Isley?" She took Pam's hand in one of her own and lazily trailed it up the inside of her thigh, under her skirt.

When she felt Harley's firm inner thigh, Pam's nostrils flared and she exhaled, hard. And when their joined fingers slid higher, when she felt wetness on her fingertips and it suddenly became obvious what that rustling of clothes was earlier, Pam let out a quiet, needy moan from the back of her throat.

"Dr. Isley?" Harley whispered, starting to move against her now. "Your research?"

"So, in conclusion," Pam managed to say, ". . . plant stuff."

"Plant stuff?" Harley grinned.

"Plant stuff," Pam growled, and pulled Harley into her lap.

Later, much later, they snuck glances at one another as they got dressed. Pam's glasses had somehow ended up on Harley's face, and Harley tapped the side of them with one finger, raising an eyebrow at the redhead. "These . . . come home with us," she said.

"Oh god, yes," Pam agreed.

There was a knock on the office door, and they quickly looked each other over and nodded their mutual approval, an unspoken _Yep, you're decent_. Pam opened the door to reveal a short man in a navy blue suit. "Can I help you?" she said politely.

"Pamela Isley?" he said, and she nodded.

He pulled out a thick envelope from behind his back and handed it to her. "You've been served." Then he walked away.

Pam shut the door behind him and turned to face Harley. "Well," she said, "I guess I'm getting a divorce."

Harley said, "First of all, let me pre-emptively apologize for the fact that I use humor as a coping mechanism when dealing with uncomfortable emotions that arise from super awkward situations."

"Harley . . ." said Pam warningly.

But Harley just covered her completely inappropriate grin with her hand and blurted out, "Are you and my dad splitting up because you guys don't love me anymore?"

Then she ducked behind the desk as a throw pillow came sailing at her.


	38. Chapter 38

**This fic is still my fluffy little unicorn, believe me.**

 **Buuuut...we're heading into the next story arc now, and this next part is critical. So just lean into it, k? I know where it's all going :)**

Harley and Pam got to the police station a few minutes before 2pm. They asked for Officer Montoya at the front desk, and a minute later she came out to greet them.

"Hello, Officer," Harley said, but coming from her it somehow still sounded like "Hey, Renee!"

"Hi, Harley. Pam," Montoya said, nodding to each of them in turn. "Is your lawyer coming?"

"Yeah, Red here called him earlier," Harley said. "Buzzkill."

"I heard that," said her attorney, walking through the door just then. "Ms. Kyle hires only the best, and if I can keep you from saying anything too self-incriminating, I may just have to retire on a high note."

Harley wrinkled her nose at him, and Montoya led the three of them back to one of the interview rooms.

Detective Bullock was already there waiting for them. "Harvey!" said Harley as soon as she saw him.

"Hey, Harley," said the stocky detective. "I got that for ya. Gotta keep your blood sugar up, kid." He nodded once at a Snickers bar on the table, a bit gruffly. Harley took it and mouthed _Thank you_ at him, and he nodded again to cover his smile.

They seated themselves around the table, Montoya and Bullock on one side with a video camera and Harley on the other side, flanked by her lawyer and Pam.

"So, Harley," Montoya began, "the way this works is that we're going to record you telling us what you know about the recently deceased – his business dealings, known associates, as much detail as you can provide."

Harley nodded, swallowing hard. Pam took her hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Then," Montoya went on, "Harvey and I will review the footage and start following up on any leads that come out of it." She looked Harley straight in the eye. "You have my word – we'll do everything we can to validate what you say. The more leads we can track down, the more lenient the judge will be on you for any part you played in the illegal activities."

Harley nodded again, managing a weak smile this time. Pam gently stroked her thumb over the back of Harley's hand.

"Ready?" Montoya said.

"Yes," said Harley.

"Then let's begin," said Montoya, and she pressed _Record._

This interview took a lot longer than their first one had. Montoya and Bullock explored every line of questioning they could think of, and Harley shared every detail she could remember. Names, descriptions, dates and times whenever possible, information about what drugs he was dealing and where he had Harley deal and who bought from her. There were a couple of moments when her lawyer tried to stop her, but Harley shooed him away and kept talking.

The detectives seemed especially interested in _where_ many of the deals had taken place: addresses, other businesses in the area, that kind of thing. Pam wasn't sure if Harley realized it, she was focusing so hard on recalling the details, but she filed that bit of information away.

They took a break about two hours in – Harley needed some water (and the Snickers bar was long gone, so maybe another one of those too), and Pam suspected Bullock needed to duck out back and smoke. Pam and Harley sat outside on a concrete bench, and Harley leaned her head back against the wall behind them, looking straight ahead.

"Hey," Pam said. "You're doing great in there."

Harley laughed, a little bitterly. "'Doing great' isn't exactly what I'd call any of that," she muttered, now watching the toe of her shoe as she scuffed it against the concrete landing. She crossed her arms over her chest and said in a small voice, "Do you still want to be with me?"

"What?!" Pam blurted out, and Harley gave a little snort of laughter at the unusual outburst, finally tilting her head and meeting Pam's eyes. Pam brushed her fingers gently over Harley's cheek. "You idiot," the redhead said, shaking her head and smiling, "I've wanted to be with you pretty much since you called yourself 'Hhh the Third.' No trouble some asshole dragged you into for like a month is going to change that."

Now Harley had a tiny smile too. "Okay," she said, leaning in so Pam could kiss her on the forehead.

Pam's eyes gleamed. "Oh, and I brought something," she said, pulling a small item out of her jacket pocket.

"Pam – no!" Harley said, acting scandalized. "You can't wear those in the interview room! I'll be too turned on to speak!"

"Tough shit," Pam said, and she put on the glasses, winked at Harley, and got up to go back inside.

The interview went for another hour and a half, until Montoya and Bullock agreed they were pretty much going in circles. They turned the camera off, and Harley's lawyer said a quick goodbye and left.

"Well, I don't think I've ever said this to a perp – but good luck, kid," Harvey said as he walked over to the door. Harley impulsively threw her arms around him, and he patted her back awkwardly, then nodded at Pam and went to wait for Montoya by their desks.

"Did I do okay?" Harley said.

Montoya punched her lightly on the shoulder. "You did great," she said, smiling when Harley whispered "Police brutality!"

As Harley walked out, Montoya held Pam back for a second. "Hey," she said, "she gave us some good leads. I think we can get her a year, maybe even less with good behavior."

Pam felt the quick sting of tears and breathed deeply until they went away. "When have you ever known Harley to behave?" she said, with the saddest smile Montoya had ever seen.

"I just want you to know – you kind of suck at making jokes," Montoya said, patting her on the arm. Pam shrugged and followed Harley out to the Prius, while Renee headed over to her desk. It was going to be a long night – a long several days – of tracking down leads.

Bullock managed to pull some strings at the courthouse, and just a few days later Harley was sitting in a new dress (black and tasteful – Pam had helped her pick it out) in an overheated conference room with her lawyer, the judge, and an attorney from the state prosecutor's office. Pam waited anxiously for her outside, and Montoya and Bullock were there too – ostensibly in case they were called in, but really to support Harley, though of course they couldn't admit that.

Both sides laid out their arguments, and even the prosecutor's heart didn't seem to be in it. The judge was able to come to a ruling fairly quickly, and the three people waiting outside were allowed in. Pam gave Harley an encouraging smile, and Bullock pointed nonchalantly to a Snickers bar in his jacket pocket.

"Given both the short duration of Ms. Quinzel's involvement and her cooperation with the authorities," the judge said, "I'm sentencing you to 6 months in a minimum security prison, to be followed by 6 months of probation. You are to have regular meetings with a therapist during and after your time in prison." She looked at Harley, and her eyes softened. "The normal sentence for a first-time offender is a year in prison – I cut that in half for you, and I think you'll be out of there even sooner if you can behave yourself. And the therapy is mainly to help you deal with everything that happened." Harley nodded mutely.

The judge addressed the group again. "Court is adjourned." She disappeared out the door, followed shortly by the prosecutor. Pam rushed to Harley's side and held her hand.

Harley's lawyer shook her other hand. "You did the right thing," he said. "I'll work out the arrangements and the timing, and I'll be in touch." Harley nodded, and he left.

"Shortest drug sentence I've ever heard of," Bullock said gruffly. "And Ithaca Min is a cake walk." He tossed the candy bar to Harley, who caught it, and then Bullock exited the conference room too.

"Ithaca Min?" Harley said hollowly.

"Ithaca Minimum Security Prison," Montoya said, flexing her fingers like she wasn't sure what to punch. "And Harv is right – it's really not so bad." She looked between the two of them, mumbled "I'll call you," sighed, and headed out.

"I'm okay," Harley said quickly, before Pam could say a word. "We knew this was coming, remember? There's a reason I didn't sign up for classes this semester. And 6 months is better than a year, and I can make so many _Orange is the New Black_ jokes, and I'll be good –"

She broke down, then, curling into Pam and sobbing. Pam wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight, never wanting to let her go.

After a few minutes, Harley's sobs faded to sniffles, and Pam heard a small voice say, "You would totally be my Alex Vause."

Pam smiled and kissed her hair. "Damn right," she said. "So . . . does that make you Piper?"

"Ugh, no way!" said Harley, starting to sound a little like herself. "I'm a goddamn delight. I'm obviously Taystee."

"Mmm, maybe Brooke Soso," Pamela said, and Harley pulled back to fake glare at her.

"Then you don't get to be Alex Vause, _RED_ ," Harley said, and they kept at it until Harley felt good enough to head home.


	39. Chapter 39

**Prison fluff. Is that a thing? WELL, IT IS NOW.**

 **(and it's sort of sad and cheesy and dialogue-heavy, apparently)**

Prison, Harley mused, wasn't _that_ much worse than life on the outside.

You got three meals a day, and you could work out or read or do most stuff that you were into. (Well, except the stuff that got you there in the first place, she supposed.)

Plus, she liked pretty much everyone she met: her bunkmate, the other girls, the guards, her probation officer, her therapist . . . especially her therapist, because Joan was the best!

And you didn't have to worry about what outfit to wear – orange was always in style. It was almost like it was . . .

"Ohhhh!" Harley said out loud, and her bunkmate Jenna Duffy leaned down from the top bunk.

"Did you hit your head again?" Jenna asked.

"No," said Harley. "I just got why that show is called _Orange is the New Black_." Jenna tapped the side of her nose, nodded sagely, and returned to whatever she was tinkering with up there.

Harley lay on her back, hands clasped behind her head, knees bent and one ankle resting on the opposite knee. She jiggled a leg until Jenna thumped on the bed above her in irritation. "Sorry," Harley said, trying and failing to settle down – because it was 2pm on a Friday, and 3-5pm every Friday was her PAM TIME!

Okay, so there were some things about prison that _sucked_. Harley was as glass-half-full as they come, but being separated from Pam was the one thing she just couldn't put a positive spin on. She was allowed to call her once a day, but it wasn't enough of that sultry voice to give Harley her fix. She came by to visit once a week, but that would _never_ be enough – it just intensified the craving, and as soon as she had to leave, Harley would flop down face-first onto her bed and not move or say a word until Jenna gently shook her shoulder at supper time.

She would never tell Pam that, though. Harley figured she had enough to deal with, with the divorce and starting a brand-new job and all. So she made Pam laugh with animated re-enactments of life behind bars, talked about how awesome Joan and Jenna and the girls were, flirted, asked how classes were going – anything to keep the mood light.

And Pam did laugh, but she was too damn smart for her own good, and Harley knew she wasn't fooling her. She saw the way Pam's eyes softened at the corners when Harley said something a little too sad, felt the tremble in her elegant fingers as they lightly stroked the inside of Harley's wrist, heard the slight lack of richness in her laugh that no one else would probably have noticed, but which signaled clearly to Harley that she wasn't the only one putting on a brave face.

And god . . . Harley missed touching her. Missed the silken tangle of Pam's hair under her hands, the press of her lips so soft and yet so merciless in their ability to make Harley fall apart, the unbelievable heat and wetness when Harley stroked her with her fingertips–

She must have moaned out loud or something, because Jenna's head appeared again. "Fantasizing about your step-lover?" she said with an upside-down grin. Harley flipped her off, which made Jenna's grin even wider – it probably confirmed her suspicions.

Harley rolled over on her side and faced the wall, feeling like thousands of ants were crawling just below her skin. She tried to nap, but sleep wouldn't come when all her mind wanted to do was dwell on a certain redhead.

Then – finally! – a guard stood at the end of their beds and said, "Quinzel. You have a visitor."

Harley sprang up, narrowly missing hitting her head on the bed (she heard Jenna chuckle at that and flipped her off again behind her back). "Is she here? Let's go!" she said impatiently, then grinned when the guard rolled her eyes.

They went into the common room, and there she was, and her eyes lit up when she saw her favorite jailbird. "God, you're beautiful," Harley said, melting into in Pam's embrace, pressing her lips against her neck so she could feel her pulse and know that she was real.

A guard cleared her throat, and they broke apart reluctantly, then sat down at a nearby table. Pam was clutching Harley's hand like a lifeline, her expression neutral – but Harley could see the tension simmering below the surface.

It had been one month.

"Fuck, I want you so bad," Pam said under her breath, and it caught Harley so off-guard that she laughed out loud, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth to avoid disturbing the other visitors.

"Hell of an opening line, Red," said Harley, grinning at her.

"Sorry," Pam said, blushing a little. "I just – even in here, you smell so good to me. I want – more. And it's killing me." She cleared her throat and spoke a little louder. "So, I forget – do they let you bring the orange jumpsuit home?"

"It's not Foot Locker, Pam," said Harley, not sure how to handle the abrupt change in subject so she fell back on her default. "You don't get to wear them out of the store."

"Mmm, too bad," Pam hummed, looking her up and down hungrily.

"Are you serious?" Harley hissed. " _This_ does it for you?" Pam shrugged, like _Can you blame me?_ and Harley decided to take a more practical approach. "It would clash with your hair," she said.

And that settled the issue of the jumpsuit.

"How's Daffodil?" said Harley.

"Cute as ever," Pam said. "Of course, with that coloring, she clearly takes after my side of the family, so . . ."

Harley wrinkled her nose at her, fake mad. Then it occurred to her that tomorrow was Saturday. "Are you going to the animal shelter tomorrow?"

"Of course," said Pam. "Oh, speaking of, Thomas said he'll swing by next week. And I think Kate is dragging Renee out here too."

"Aw! They're so cute," Harley said. "It's almost like my inviting them to our housewarming party was part of some grand, overarching scheme to get them together."

"Was it?"

"No. But wouldn't it have been cool if it were?"

Pam laughed at her, like she always did, like it was surprising and delightful to be that amused. Then she looked at Harley, speculatively. "You were just about to tell me how much you love me, weren't you?"

"What the – how did you know?" Harley stammered.

"Because you usually say it after I laugh at one of your jokes," Pam said, and Harley would have smacked her except she was pretty sure the prison frowned on violence against visitors.

"I do, though," said Harley.

"Me too," said Pam a little hoarsely, swallowing hard. Then: "How's Jenna?"

"Still a bitch," Harley said. "I love her."

"You love everyone," Pam said with so much affection that Harley felt tears suddenly filling her eyes. "Oh, Harley, what did I say?" the redhead asked, looking thoroughly confused, which made Harley smile despite herself.

"Nothing," sniffed Harley, wiping her eyes with the back of her free hand, the one not clutched in Pam's. "I don't know. Sorry to be such a downer."

"God, I'm so glad you said it – you're a total Eeyore," Pam said. When Harley looked at her, she added, "See? I'm learning how to use humor at inappropriate times!" and winked.

Harley shook her head, a wry smile on her face.

She looked at Pam. Sighed. The smile fell.

"I know," said Pam quietly, rubbing her thumbs over the backs of Harley's hands. "I know."


	40. Chapter 40

**Harley gets some much-needed therapy.**

 **And no, that's not a euphemism ;)**

When Harley wasn't moping around after Pam, she really did have a good time in prison. She'd only met her probation officer, Maggie Sawyer, once – but she dug the blonde's no-nonsense vibe and thought she might invite her to her next dinner party.

But man, did Harley have a brain-crush on her therapist! Dr. Joan Leland originally met with Harley once a week, but after their first conversation, they started meeting two, even three times a week. (Joan assured Harley, when she asked, that it was _not_ because she "needed extra therapy").

The very first time they'd met, Dr. Leland said, "Hello, you must be Harley. My name is Joan," and Harley instantly made the connection.

"Not – _the_ Dr. Joan Leland?" she asked, a little starstruck. Dr. Leland thought she was joking at first, that she'd heard her name from one of the other inmates, but then Harley had asked her so many things she was curious about in Dr. Leland's last scholarly article that they were soon talking psychology non-stop. (Joan had asked, "Are you a psych major?" and Harley nodded at first – then her face fell when she had to amend it to, "Well, I _was_ . . .")

Together, they identified a primary goal of helping Harley avoid a lapse like the one that had landed her in prison. Harley screwed up her face, looked at the ceiling, and then said that she felt the critical thing she was missing before was a support network – and _Joan Leland_ nodded in agreement!

"Tell me about your parents," Joan said one day.

Harley thought and said, "Growing up, I think – I loved my parents, but I didn't _trust_ them, you know? Pop drank too much when I was a kid, and I always figured he was cheating on my mom. And I never knew which one of them I was more scared to turn out like."

"Do you think you turned out like either of them?"

"I guess . . . my dad more than my mom," Harley said quietly. "I'm outgoing and stuff like he is. Not much like my mom."

"Is it uncomfortable for you to talk about your father?" said Joan, and when Harley nodded: "Why?"

The blonde sucked air in through her teeth and pulled her feet up onto the chair so that her knees were level with her shoulders. "Because . . . I feel guilty about the way everything went down."

"With . . ." Joan prompted.

"With the Pam situation," Harley said, snapping a bit. "I feel guilty that I stole my father's wife, okay? Who _does_ that?"

"Do you think you stole her from him?" asked Joan.

"I mean . . . that's what happened, so yeah," Harley said. "I saw something I wanted, and I went after it, no matter who it hurt."

Joan opened a file folder she'd carried in and flipped through it. "Hmm, now I've never met Pam – I'd like to, someday –" ( _Dinner party!_ thought Harley, and then _Crap, are you allowed to invite your therapist to dinner? Must ask lawyer_ ) "but from everything I've read about her, she doesn't seem to me like the type of woman who likes to be treated as property."

"What?" said Harley. "That-that's not what I meant. She's not. She's strong, and brave, and pretty much everything a woman should be."

"Then how could you have stolen her?" Joan said gently, letting the final piece of the puzzle slide into place. "Seems to me she was part of the decision too."

"Damn . . . you're gooood," Harley said, shaking her finger at the doctor. "No wonder you're _the_ Joan Leland!" And Joan actually chuckled aloud at that.

"So, back to your parents," said Joan, and Harley wrinkled her nose. "When's the last time you talked with either one of them?"

"Well, my mom disowned me the second I called her to tell her I was going to prison, said she always knew I was a bad seed just like my father," Harley said, a little too blithely, "and the last thing Pop said to me was that I'm not his daughter, right after he killed a guy in front of me." She looked at Joan, a little defiantly. "Still want to talk about my parents?"

Dr. Leland took off her glasses and leaned forward, returning her gaze evenly. "Harley, I know you're familiar with my career – so you probably know that in addition to Ithaca Min, I also provide therapy to the inmates at Arkham Asylum."

"Of course," Harley said. "You mention it in your works on abnormal psychology."

"Right. And do you suppose that just _maybe_ , one or two Arkham residents might have a slightly more messed-up family situation than yours?"

"God, you're good," said Harley, shaking her head in pure admiration. "I want to be just like you when I grow up." Joan actually looked a little embarrassed at that, and Harley said, "Aw, are you blushing? Look at Dr. Leland, she's my only adult role model, and she's blushing!"

Joan cleared her throat and arched an eyebrow expectantly. Harley sighed. "Oh, fine. Um . . . here's something about my parents. It was weird for me when they got divorced, even though I was in college, even though things hadn't been good between them for a long time."

"Weird how?" asked Joan, and they continued their conversation.

At another session, they delved more deeply into Harley's support network. "Harley," Dr. Leland began, "you mentioned that one contributing factor to The Bad Month –" Harley's term for it – "was that you didn't have a strong support network. But from everything I've observed, from what I hear from the staff and the other inmates, you make friends effortlessly and people generally love you. Can you tell me a little about that?"

Harley bit her lower lip and scrunched one eye up in thought. "I do make friends easily, always have," she said. "Or – more like acquaintances, maybe? I just love people, find them super entertaining – like, there's something funny about everyone, you know? And once I find that thing that makes them funny, when I can laugh at them but in a nice way, that's when I feel like we've connected."

"Interesting. Are they still acquaintances at that point, or friends?" Joan asked.

The blonde sighed, shifting a bit in her chair. "Six months ago, I wouldn't have been able to tell you one person who would visit me in the hospital." At Joan's wide-eyed look, she chuckled a little sadly. "Gotta work on your poker face there, Doc. Anyway, yeah. I had a million acquaintances and zero friends."

"Why is that?" said Joan. "You're so open with everyone – I'm sure people find it endearing and want to get closer to you."

"I'm super open, yeah," Harley said. "But it's mostly about the good stuff. The bad stuff, I keep a lot of it bottled up – I guess it would surprise most people to know that. And because of that, there's this side of me that I used to feel like nobody would ever want to know."

"Do you still feel that way?"

"Not as much . . . but sometimes? Like, when Pam visits me here, I try not to get all heavy about stuff. Because I just want her to be happy, and she's dealing with enough crap right now. So I keep it light, try to joke around."

Joan smiled. "Do you think it fools her?"

"Not for a second," said Harley, laughing a little. "But really, things are better now. I have some good friends from my old job at the restaurant, and my buddy Thomas from the animal shelter, and a couple of friends I met during this investigation, actually, and I guess maybe I could even count Selina as a friend." She smiled absently, lost in her thoughts for a moment. "But most of all . . . there's Pam."

"It seems like things are really good with the two of you," Joan said. "I've met a lot of couples during my career, and this thing you have – it looks pretty real to me."

Harley blushed a little. "It is," she said. "And – you know I feel guilty about how things happened, I really do. I wish I could . . . make amends somehow. But I've always gone with my gut, and from the start I just knew this thing with Pam was meant to be. It feels so right." She frowned a little. "We should have been open with my dad about it sooner. Waited until the divorce was final or something. And even then, I guess society would probably frown on it."

"Society has frowned on a lot of things over the years," Joan said kindly. "Doesn't always mean they're wrong." She paused, then said, "Harley . . . one thing we haven't talked about is . . . him. Do you think you can tell me a little about what drove you to enter a relationship with him?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it a relationship," Harley said bitterly. "But you want to talk motivation, fine." She looked at Joan, her blue eyes empty in that moment, gripping the worn edge of the wooden table until her knuckles turned white. "Did I tell you I wanted to study motivation? Back when I had a future?"

Joan broke protocol then, reaching out to gently cover one of Harley's hands with her own. "You still have a future, Harley," she said. "I have some thoughts on that, actually. But first . . ."

Harley swallowed hard and nodded, even managed a small smile. Dr. Leland sat back as Harley began talking again. "So. How did things start . . . there was a fair amount of blackmail involved initially . . . he said he'd tell Pam about how I was crying to everyone in the bar about her, and I stupidly thought that going with him was better than that alternative."

She chewed the inside of her mouth, thinking hard. "Consciously, I told myself that I was looking for something I desperately wanted from Pam but knew I couldn't have. Which was true, in a way. But unconsciously . . . I think that I chose the most destructive option possible because of my guilt about the situation."

Joan looked impressed. "And Pam? What do you think motivated her to come to your apartment that night?"

"Ah, that night . . ." Harley said, smiling as she relived it. Then she shook her head, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry, Doc. Okay. So, consciously, she probably just couldn't resist all of _this_ anymore." She gestured at herself, and Joan laughed, then quickly shook her head and gestured for Harley to continue. "And unconsciously, I think there are a couple of things that brought her to my doorstep that night. I think – and this is a little creepy, but it's probably true – that some of the same qualities she found attractive in my dad, she also saw in me but like cranked up to 11."

"Like what?" Joan asked.

"Like . . . the carefree attitude, the charm, the ability to see the positive in just about any situation, the _joie de vivre_ , that kinda stuff. And I always liked her just the way she was. She didn't have to try to be this perfect person, because to me she already was." Harley looked down. "I don't know, maybe that stuff is partly why she came over that night?"

"No, I think you were right the first time," said Joan, her eyes twinkling. "I think she just couldn't resist all of _that_." Harley looked back up at her, and they both burst out laughing.

When she'd recovered, Joan looked at Harley seriously for a moment. "Harley, I want to talk to you about something."

"Pretty sure that's literally all we do, Doc," Harley said, grinning like her old self.

"Fair point," said Joan. "So. As you've probably worked out, there are two main reasons I have to make rounds to both Ithaca Min _and_ Arkham Asylum: budget cuts, and the fact that it's so damn hard to hire anyone to work at Arkham."

Harley nodded, completely unsure where this was going but along for the ride.

"Harley," Joan said, "I think you're brilliant." When Harley blushed and looked down, Joan said, "Look at me. You need to hear this," and she paused until Harley made eye contact again, then continued: "You make jokes all the time about getting by on your charm, but from the first time we met I sensed a keen intelligence in you – and, perhaps just as important, a great deal of curiosity. I think it's time you stopped thinking that you're just charming and recognized how much potential you actually have."

She smiled at the confused look in the blonde's eyes. "Like I said, it's hard to get anyone to work at Arkham. So I went to the board with a proposal: I told them that I had someone in mind, but that we'd need to get creative. What I proposed is that as soon as you get out of here, you begin an internship under me at Arkham." Harley's eyes widened, and she held her breath.

"In addition," said Joan, "since I understand your existing scholarships have been forfeited, I worked it out with the psychology department that your internship comes with tuition remission."

Now tears were welling up in Harley's eyes. Joan affected a mock-stern tone, pointing at her. "But – you have to hold up your end of the bargain. You'll need to sign an agreement that once you graduate from college, you'll come work at Arkham Asylum for at least two years."

It was Harley's turn to break protocol (something she'd never minded doing anyway). She launched herself across the table at her benefactor, who grunted in surprise as Harley threw her arms around Joan's neck in a crushing hug. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Joan patted her back and smiled. "You're welcome," she said to her new protégée. "You are very welcome."


	41. Chapter 41

**Jenna Duffy: Exposition in Overalls.**

 **So...lots of things are revealed in this chapter. I have secretly been plotting this all along, mwa haha. Hope you enjoy it.**

 **Also, I think I only have a few more chapters left in me at this pace. It's been over a month now of at least a chapter a day, and I'm going to bring this to a reasonable point and then take a little break.**

 **I won't abandon our darlings, though - I love this silly, fluffy little world - and I know exactly where to take this next.**

 **Be sure to follow if you want to be notified when I come back to it!**  
 **I'll do shoutouts when I wrap up in a few chapters.**

 **You guys are the best.**

Harley called Pam right away with the news about her internship and future job at Arkham, about having an academic future again, and they both sobbed their way through joy and relief over the phone until another inmate called Harley "that crying phone lady from _Orange Is the New Black_ " and yelled at her to get off the phone, which she did good-naturedly.

"Does _everyone_ in here watch that show?" Harley muttered once she and Pam had said their loving goodbyes.

It was rec time, so she went looking for Jenna to see if she wanted to hang out. She found her in the TV room, and the two of them sat down at a small table to play Uno.

After a few turns, Jenna looked at Harley's face carefully. "Had some pretty heavy therapy with Dr. Leland today, huh?"

"What? Oh, yeah," Harley said, doing her best to clean her face off – it was tricky with the stiff cloth of her jumpsuit. "We got pretty deep into why I did all that stuff a few months back."

"You've never actually told me what you did," said Jenna, playing a green Skip, green Reverse, blue Reverse on top of Harley's green 3. She drew a card from the pile and nodded at Harley.

"Ugh, that's because it's super embarrassing," Harley said, playing her next card. "Classic story of girl meets girl, girl meets boy, girl gets pulled into underground drug ring to keep her mind off other girl."

"Isn't that the plot of _Toy Story_?" said Jenna with a grin, and Harley laughed.

"Anyway," Harley went on, "I . . . started sleeping with the main guy, I guess you could say. Partly to keep my mind off Pam, partly because in a weird way he was the only one I could talk to about the dark stuff in my head." She couldn't play on Jenna's next card and had to draw.

"Bad dude?" asked Jenna, playing a Wild Draw 4.

"Asshole!" Harley said, drawing her four cards. "You, I mean, for the Draw 4 – not him. No, actually, him too. He was the worst. First and last time I'll ever date a guy with greenish hair who hangs out in alleys."

She was sorting her new cards into her hand and didn't see how the blood drained from Jenna's face. Jenna gulped and said, "What happened to him?"

Harley sighed and looked back up. She misread Jenna's expression, thinking she'd creeped her out talking about her past. "He's dead," she said flatly.

Jenna blanched even further, if that was possible. Her eyes scanned the room wildly as if she were searching for something – what, Harley had no clue – and then she stammered, "I-I have to go," and just got up and walked quickly out of the TV room without looking back.

"Wait a minute!" Harley called. She looked at Jenna's single card on the table and muttered, "You forgot to say Uno."

Somehow, Jenna managed to avoid her bunkmate for the rest of the day. Harley caught glimpses of her every now and then – sitting in a far corner at dinner, rushing off to do cleaning crew duty when they were both supposed to be working in the library together – but she knew she needed to catch her alone or Jenna wouldn't talk.

Finally, about half an hour before lights out, Harley was reading in bed when Jenna walked in. "Move over," she said brusquely, wedging herself in to sit on the end of Harley's bunk. Harley sat up and they both leaned their backs against the wall.

"We'd better be careful," Harley whispered, "or they're going to think we're recreating –"

"Swear to god, if you make yet another _Orange Is the New Black_ reference right now, I will nail your hand to the wall," Jenna said, and Harley shut up.

Jenna leaned her head out and looked around, making sure they were relatively alone. "Look," she said, "I shouldn't be telling you any of this. But I actually like you, and I don't want you out there blind." Harley nodded, silent and expectant.

Jenna lowered her voice to a whisper. "You and I . . . I think we were mixed up in the same thing."

"But – how?" said Harley. "I never saw you before."

"Different sections," Jenna said. "I had my own version of your guy. Creepy little short dude. Always wore big hats. You ever see him around?" Harley shook her head. "Didn't think so," Jenna said. "They kept us separate. Right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing, you know what I mean?"

Harley didn't. She nodded anyway.

Jenna poked her head out and looked around again, then ducked back under, apparently satisfied. "I think my guy might have had a thing for me or something, cuz he told me stuff he shouldn't have. Sold me out to the cops in the end, but he told me about your guy – sounds like he was a real joker, that one – and he told me that there were layers above them. It wasn't just the drugs."

"What was it?" Harley asked, breathless.

"Drugs were just to finance their main scheme: real estate," said Jenna, whispering even more furtively now. "Guy named Cobblepot was running that part of the show."

" _Oswald_ Cobblepot?" hissed Harley. "That guy was my landlord!"

"I'm not surprised, he's a lot of people's landlord," Jenna said. "They're buying up every property in Ithaca that they can. Don't know why – my guy didn't know – but I think it must go higher than Cobblepot, too."

"Do you know anyone else?" asked Harley. "Anyone's name?"

Jenna thought for a minute. "There was one guy – he was the muscle, also went on the road a lot. Came around sometimes. Name was something boring – Rob? Richie?"

"Rick," said Harley quietly, feeling the bottom drop out of her stomach.

"Yeah, that was it," said Jenna, unaware. "So him, you did meet."

"Did you give these names to the police?" Harley asked under her breath.

"The cops? Shit, no!" Jenna said. "Are you crazy? You roll on these people, you wind up dead. I'm here in minimum security, and the guys I worked for aren't in max – they're out there running things, you know what I mean?"

This time when Harley nodded, she actually did get it.

"Look," said Jenna, her wide-eyed expression softening just a touch. "You're getting out of here way before I do, okay? Best advice is to be safe out there. Just – put it all behind you. And don't tell the cops _anything_. You can't trust some of them, either. You understand me?"

They heard footsteps nearby and Jenna quickly switched topics. "What am I gonna do when I get out? I want to run my own shop – woodworking, carpentry – I learned all that stuff from my dad, and I'm pretty damn good at it." She nudged Harley. "What about you?"

"Um . . . go back to school, become a psychologist," Harley said nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear.

"You'd be good at that," said Jenna. "You're a really good listener." She smiled at Harley – a genuine smile that lit up her whole face – patted her on the leg, and climbed up onto her own bunk.

And Harley lay down, curled into a ball facing the wall, not noticing the tears pooling in her downstream ear as she thought about her dad, and what he was mixed up in, and how you never really know people.


	42. Chapter 42

Harley gnawed on her lower lip and shuffled her feet, filled to overflowing with nervous excitement as she waited for Pam.

It was just like all the other Fridays when she'd waited for Pam – the edgy anticipation, the intense craving to hear her voice and touch her skin, the dread of the moment when she left and Harley had to be without her again – and yet, it was completely different.

Because today, Pam was coming to _take her home!_

Harley was in her street clothes, clutching her little bag of personal belongings, trying to stop herself from kissing her phone in a joyful reunion (she failed). She chatted with the guard at the front desk, who said they were going to miss her, and Harley said truthfully that she'd miss the people here too.

There had been an overwhelming show of support for her early release – every person who attended the hearing had something nice to say on Harley's behalf – but by far, the lion's share of the credit went to Dr. Joan Leland. Joan had called the hearing in the first place, a couple months into her sentence. She'd spoken at length about the progress Harley had made, finishing with the news about her internship and the fact that she and Harley would remain in close contact.

The decision was unanimous, and Joan told Harley later that it was the first time she'd ever heard the room erupt in applause at one of those hearings.

She still had 6 months of probation, which essentially just meant regular meetings with her PO, Maggie Sawyer – and that was completely fine by Harley.

And on her last morning, her bunkmate and friend Jenna had surprised her with a gift – a little wooden mallet that she'd carved from a hunk of wood, with intricate detailing, tiny diamonds carved all along the handle and around the circumference of the . . . hitty part (Harley didn't know the word for it). "I got special permission to work on this during my free time," she'd said shyly. "They were going to say no, but then I told them it was for you. I don't know why I made you a mallet – just seemed to fit, for some reason. Use it to keep yourself safe, k?"

Jenna had pulled Harley into a quick hug then, and Harley was surprised to feel the chill of Jenna's tears on the side of her neck before the other woman pulled away and retreated back up to her bunk.

Thinking of Jenna, though, reminded her of everything her bunkmate had told her about the criminal activity simmering beneath Ithaca's surface. Harley had talked about it with Pam some, but they were postponing any major decisions until after Harley was safely back at home.

And speaking of Pam . . . there she was. She had just stepped into the little alcove at the front door, wearing the green halter dress that she'd been wearing the very first time they met (the one that matched her eyes), with a tightly fitted black blazer to ward off the September chill, and she was backlit by the afternoon sun so that her hair shone like a glorious red sunset.

"Goddamn, that woman knows how to make an entrance," said the guard at the front desk, sounding awed.

"Yes, she does," Harley agreed – before dropping her bag, running to Pam, and jumping right into her arms. Pam leaned back so Harley's feet came off the floor, twirling her around slowly, and then setting her down as Harley tilted her face up to Pam's.

"Hi," Pam whispered just before their lips met.

"Hi," Harley answered with a little giggle.

Then Pam's lips found hers, _finally_ , and it was like she'd forgotten how to breathe, it felt so right. Harley tangled her fingers in Pam's flawlessly styled hair, pulling her as close as humanly possible, while Pam's hands roamed all over Harley's back, caressing her waist, her lower back, sliding around to her sides.

Harley turned her head sideways, slipping her tongue gently against Pam's lips, craving a deeper connection.

"Ahem!" They broke apart, both looking a bit stunned, to stare at the guard who had just cleared her throat noisily. "You don't need to have a conjugal visit right there on the floor. _Go home_ ," she said.

Pam flushed a lovely shade of pink, while Harley just laughed, not embarrassed in the least. "She's right, Pam-a-lamb," she said, detaching from the redhead just long enough to grab her bag, then taking her firmly by the hand. "Let's get outa here."

In the Prius, Harley smiled at the sound of Pam's favorite Green Day CD. She reached over and held Pam's hand tightly on the center console. "So, what's new on the outside?" she said, looking over at her, unable to look away. She lightly tickled her fingers against Pam's palm, the inside of her wrist, paying rapt attention to how her breath quickened just the slightest bit.

"Oh, you know," Pam said in an unconvincingly airy voice. "Just classes, and Daffodil, and waiting for this moment every second of every day." She snuck a glance over at Harley, and when their eyes met Harley shivered a little at the intensity of Pam's gaze.

"Mm-hmm," Harley said nonchalantly, now holding Pam's hand in one of hers and using the fingers of her opposite hand to trail little paths up and down Pam's arm, ever so lightly. "And what classes are you teaching this semester, again?" She leaned closer and put a hand on Pam's bare knee, then slowly began sliding it upwards, bringing the skirt up with it.

Pam gulped. "Plant stuff," she said, her voice huskier than usual.

"Mmm, I like plant stuff," said Harley, inching that hand ever higher.

"Should I pull over?" Pam whispered, and before Harley could even finish saying "Oh god, yes," she was pulling off onto a little road that wound back into some woods, where Pam drove as far off the road as she could and shoved the car into park.

Then they were crashing together over the console, lips meeting in bruising kiss after bruising kiss, teeth colliding, tongues urgent and hungry, hands roaming desperately like they were _both_ teenagers. "God, I can't believe how sexy you are," Harley gasped in between kisses as Pam's hands slid upward under her t-shirt, grazing her nipples.

"Harley," Pam said in that growl she had sometimes that drove Harley absolutely insane, "I need to be inside you right fucking now."

Harley moaned "Jesus, Pam," and crashed their lips together once more, then pulled back and jerked her head at the back seat, wiggling her eyebrows. Pam nodded, and Harley crawled right back between the seats, kicking off her shoes and unzipping her jeans as she went, while Pam quickly went out the driver's side and came back in the back door, shedding her own blazer and tossing it into the trunk.

She sat in the middle of the back seat, and Harley climbed into her lap, straddling her, already rocking against her urgently. "Pam . . ." she moaned.

"Shh, I've got you, baby," Pam said, as always getting so caught up in the sounds Harley made as she got more and more turned on, the way she bucked and writhed against her, that she forgot about her own pleasure for the moment.

She found a particularly sensitive spot on Harley's neck and circled it lightly with her tongue before sucking the tender flesh into her mouth – hard. Pam found herself torn between the need to cherish Harley and the need to claim her as her own. _Fuck it, I'll just do both_ , she thought. Still licking and sucking that spot on Harley's neck, Pam reached down to undo Harley's jeans – she wasn't kidding about needing to be inside her – and found that Harley had already gotten started.

"Help me pull these off," she urged, snagging a finger in a belt loop and tugging down, hard. Harley matched her desperation, lifting up so Pam could yank her jeans and panties in a single motion down to her thighs. Then Harley leaned forward, pressing Pam into the soft upholstery of the back seat so that together, they could work the whole mess completely off of her, leaving Harley bare from the waist down.

Pam looked down at those pale, toned legs, gritting her teeth as she ran her palms up and down them possessively, over and over, from hip to knee and back again, pressing hard enough to create heat from the friction. Then she looked up at Harley, who was wearing a _what the fuck, get on with it_ face, looking so impatient that Pam actually giggled.

"Oh, is this funny to you?" said Harley, cocking her head and pushing Pam back into the seat with a hand on her shoulder.

"Little bit," Pam said, holding up her thumb and forefinger to show Harley exactly how much, not too out of breath to be a smartass about it. Her eyes widened when Harley grabbed that hand by the wrist, pulled it up to her mouth, and slowly sucked Pam's index finger in, running her tongue around it.

Then she pulled the finger out with a wet _pop._ "Pam," Harley said in a gravelly voice so unlike her usual bubbly one, "may I remind you that I am an ex-con who hasn't known the touch of a woman in literally _months_ , who is sitting half-naked in the lap of the one woman she wants to touch her for the rest of her life?"

Pam gulped, frozen in that moment as Harley's eyes bore down on her. _Still surprising me_ was her last thought before Harley pushed her hand downward, throwing her head back as Pam instinctively slid her fingers through silky wetness.

"Jesus, Harl," she said, slipping two fingers inside her effortlessly, panting against her collarbone as Harley began riding her. They quickly found a rhythm, one that could best be described as 'frenetic' after being apart for so long.

With some effort, Harley looked down and met Pam's emerald eyes. "God, Pam," she moaned between thrusts, "feels . . . so . . . good."

Pam grabbed the front of Harley's shirt with her free hand, pulling her down clumsily so their lips could meet in a sloppy kiss, never once slowing the tempo of her fingers inside her. She dragged her lips along Harley's jawline to her ear and rasped, "You have _no idea_ how much I've missed fucking you."

The windows of the Prius were completely fogged over now, and Harley's shirt clung to her sweaty torso despite the chill outside. Pam fixed her lips to the sensitive skin just below Harley's ear and marveled at how her last words brought a new rush of wetness almost instantly, how Harley's hips rocked faster and faster now as she lost herself in her pleasure. "Yes, baby," she leaned up to whisper in her ear, "come for me."

She slid her thumb back and forth over Harley's now-slippery nub, and Harley came apart all around her, shuddering and clenching Pam's fingers over and over again, her hips slowing down gradually from their frantic up-and-down motion, silent except for a handful of breathy, high-pitched exhalations as she hit her peak. Her spine tensed as she climaxed, and then she collapsed, boneless, on top of Pam.

Pam's face was buried in Harley's neck. She breathed in the clean sweaty sunshine-y scent of her and smiled.

"I missed you," Harley mumbled against the back seat.

"I missed you, too," Pam said against her throat. Then she cleared her own throat. "So . . . think that'll last you until we get home?"

"I make no promises," Harley said with a grin before pulling back to kiss Pam on the nose.

They disentangled carefully, and Harley whimpered a little at the absence when Pam gently pulled her fingers free.

When they were settled in the front of the car, Pam bit her lip and looked over at Harley, who met her gaze with a smile. "I have a surprise for you when we get home," said Pam.

"Ooh," Harley squealed, clapping her hands. "What is it?"

"Well . . . remember that time I made you search for my article of green clothing?" Pam said, a mischievous grin playing over her lips.

"Pam-a-lamb," said Harley seriously, "I relived that moment every single night I was in prison. Yes, I remember it."

"Well," Pam went on, studiously facing forward now and starting the car, "let's just say – that game wouldn't work at all right now."

She could see Harley's face scrunch up in thought out of the corner of her eye, and she knew the moment Pam's words dawned on her by the way she went completely still.

"You mean – you're in _that_ fucking dress – and you're not wearing any –"

Pam just shrugged one shoulder, grinned, and floored it for home.


	43. Chapter 43

As it turned out, that would be enough to last them until they got home – but just barely. Harley's hand found its way back to Pam's bare thigh as Pam aimed the Prius toward home like an energy-efficient little bullet powered by a hybrid of sexual tension and desperation. "Harley," Pam breathed as lithe fingers resumed their earlier upward trajectory, slipping under the green fabric and inching slowly higher until they ghosted against her soaking center.

"Mmm?" Harley mumbled, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Pam's bare shoulder now (her blazer still lay discarded in the trunk). "Want me to stop?" She continued making light, back-and-forth strokes until Pam's fingers clenched white on the steering wheel, her breath coming in short gasps.

"No – I mean, we should – I mean, look we're home!" Pam managed to pant out, absurdly impressed at her own ability to remain somewhat coherent. She pulled the Prius into their assigned parking space, then pulled Harley into her lap, sliding the seat back to avoid honking the horn. One hand tangled in Harley's blonde hair, slightly longer and wilder from her time in prison, and the other found her ass and squeezed.

Harley moaned against Pam's eager lips, rocking on top of her just like in the back seat. "Goddammit, Pam," she husked, "don't you dare go seducing me again. It's my turn to make you come apart, and I can't reach you like this." She flopped her hand around comically to illustrate.

Pam sighed and gentled her eager exploration of Harley's mouth, resting her forehead against the blonde's chest. "Fine," she said, squeezing Harley's tight rear one last time just to feel her respond, "let's go inside."

They managed to tumble out of the Prius and into the elevator that would take them from the parking garage up to their floor. Pam had just pressed the button for said floor when she felt a tight body pressing up close behind her, lips warm and wet against the spot between her shoulder blades – and eager fingers once more slipping up the inside of her thigh. "Baby," she whispered, falling forward against the elevator wall.

Harley was just reaching her goal when the elevator opened on the 2nd floor – far too soon. She pulled back in surprise, and both women looked at the numbers. When Pam had fallen against them, she'd hit every button in the apartment complex. Harley giggled and said, "It looks like a Christmas tree!"

"Is that from _White Christmas_?" Pam said, turning to face Harley.

The younger woman giggled and stood on tiptoe to kiss the redhead on the nose. "God, you're cute. It's from _Elf_ , but I'm so proud of you for trying." Pam retaliated by tickling her in the ribs, and then let her go when the doors opened on their floor.

Pam looked at Harley almost shyly as she unlocked the door and pushed it open, then took Harley by the hand and led her into their home.

She smiled when Harley gasped, observing the blonde with a loving smile as she took in every inch of the welcome that Pam had planned for her. Candles would have posed a fire hazard, so Pam had ordered 100 electric tea lights and set them up, evenly spaced, on every horizontal surface in the apartment. They lined the edge of the kitchen counter, teetered on the back of the loveseat, and (perhaps most critically) formed a path to the bedroom.

And the flowers – Pam eagerly anticipated the moment when the morning light would flood in and show them to Harley in all their glory, but even in the dim light of the flickering electric candles Harley turned to her, threw her arms around Pam's neck, and whispered, "Tuberoses and coral roses! My new favorites. Thank you."

"Thank that interfering bitch Selina," Pam said with a smile, pressing a kiss to the top of Harley's head. Her smile widened when she heard Harley's answering giggle.

And then Harley stopped giggling. She leaned back and looked up into Pam's eyes, her own blue eyes twinkling brighter than 100 competing electric flames. "I'm going to take you to bed now," Harley said, hunger evident in her voice, before leaning up to capture Pam's lips in a heated kiss. Pam felt that small pink tongue she'd craved for so long flicking against her lips and parted them to grant Harley entrance. She sucked lightly on Harley's tongue as the younger woman explored, lightly pressing into Pam's mouth and then retreating, over and over again.

They held each other tight, knowing all too well now the pain of being separated. Pam brought both hands up to the sides of Harley's face, tracing paths along the soft skin of her neck, the hard line of her jawbone.

Harley, however, was a bit more impatient. She released her hold around Pam's shoulders and slid her hands down her sides, down the outsides of her thighs until her fingers curled under the hem of the green halter dress. Pam gasped as fingernails scraped her skin lightly, as she felt the fabric of her skirt being hiked up ever so slowly, as Harley began walking her backwards until her lower back bumped against the kitchen counter, never ceasing her gentle yet insistent plundering of Pam's mouth.

"I'm sure," Harley said roughly, breaking loose from Pam's mouth for a second, her fingers inching still higher and now digging in just below Pam's hips, "that whatever you've done to the bedroom is simply breathtaking. But, baby–" and here she _yanked_ Pam's dress up to her waist, and Pam hissed quietly when cool air met her growing arousal – "I can't fucking wait that long."

She dropped to her knees, paused for a split second and _growled_ at the sight before her – and then plunged forward and pressed her face firmly into the cleft between Pam's legs. They both moaned the second Harley's tongue made contact, and Pam's hips canted forward, instinctively granting Harley deeper access.

"God, Harley," Pam breathed, rocking against her in little pulses that perfectly matched the short, upward, merciless strokes of Harley's tongue. "Need you . . . so . . . bad." Harley hummed in response, and the resulting vibrations had Pam grasping the edge of the counter with both hands just to stay upright.

She felt as though all the nerve endings in her body were concentrated along the wet path traced by Harley's eager tongue, that she would slowly be drawn through it like light into a black hole and turned inside out. Pam could feel her arousal escalating at an impossible rate, fueled by their separation and the intensity of their desire. Harley's tongue lapped against her, now slipping over her engorged nub, now dipping into her waiting center.

"Please," Pam begged, not even sure what she was asking for – but Harley knew, and seconds later a slender finger entered her. Pam's head fell back, her mouth open in a wordless cry, and one of her hands left the counter to tangle in Harley's hair, holding her willing captive locked in place, her lips and tongue making short work of Pam's clit while her finger pumped in and out of her.

"Harley," Pam sighed, feeling her walls already start to tighten around Harley's finger, her hips speeding up their rhythm against her face. "Baby – I'm gonna –"

And then Harley plunged another finger in, and Pam was cresting, wave after wave pounding into her and leaving her a shuddering mess, her legs quivering and twitching as Harley relentlessly stroked and licked her into oblivion.

Pam slid, boneless, down the counter to lie on the floor, and Harley managed to detach herself smoothly before moving up to curl into Pam's side, her head on Pam's heaving chest, her arm wrapped firmly around her waist. "Um . . . welcome home?" Pam managed to gasp out after a minute, and Harley giggled.

They lay there, peaceful, until Pam's breathing slowed. Harley cleared her throat and leaned up on one elbow so she could look down at her, tangling red curls absently around one finger. "Now that you've more or less recovered . . . I feel like those little tea lights are telling me to go into the bedroom. Should we follow them?"

The smile that lit Pam's face then was like a sunrise, even in the dim glow of the little candles – a gradual brightening followed by an intense blaze you couldn't tear your eyes away from even if you wanted to. "Lead the way," she said.

And Harley did.


End file.
